


The Twilight Court

by awkward_ace



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Detectives, F/M, Faeries - Freeform, Gen, Humor, Multi, Romance, Supernatural Elements, heavy smokin' and drinkin' Cullen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkward_ace/pseuds/awkward_ace
Summary: Thirty years ago, the Twilight Court stepped into the light and told the humans of the existence of Faeries, along with other Things That Go Bump in the Night. Naturally, it was only logical that law enforcement and other similar agencies respond by creating special departments to deal with those Things.Seeker Cassandra and her partner, Detective Barris, have a problem. Kids are going missing, young men are turning up dead, and everything about the case screams 'supernatural', and of the sort that is a little out of their comfort zone. It's fortunate that Cassandra is acquainted with one private investigator Cullen Rutherford, a former-military man who specializes in this sort of thing. It's unfortunate that none of them are prepared for the shake down that is about to happen in faery-land.





	1. Dazzle Me, Seeker

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a random thought. That thought was, "What would Cullen be like as a John Constantine, Hellblazer type character. The sort who had problems and drinks and smokes heavily? And what if it was faeries?" And then my hand slipped. And then my brain started to run away from itself.
> 
> So, here you are. Enjoy.

**Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me**

 

“Are you sure about this, Seeker? I mean, his file…”

“I know what it says, Barris, but he is the best at what he does.”

“And you think he’ll help?”

“Yes. At least…I hope so.”

Barris exhaled, raising his eyebrows, “Right then. I’m with you.”

Cassandra smiled faintly in thanks and the pair bailed out of the car, Barris looking around curiously at the old train station. It looked a little run down, boards covering the windows of the ground floor, weeds spilling through cracks in cement and between the rail ties. “Where’s he live? _In_ the station?”

“The upper floor,” she replied, ducking through a door that hung half off its hinges, leading him into the dusty, twilight interior and up metal spiral steps at the far end near the ticket office.

They emerged on a small landing that was significantly cleaner than the floor below, with sunlight pouring into windows and onto a small jungle of plants growing on shelves and from hanging pots. A bowl sat near the door, empty save for a few crumbs.

Cassandra knocked on the door, firmly, and stepped back so she was in clear view of the peep-hole.

Nothing happened.

She frowned and knocked again, harder, louder.

Still nothing.

She made an annoyed sound and pounded the door with her fist. “It’s me! Open the door!”

More nothing, for several moments, and then the sound of locks shuffling, a chain sliding. The door opened a little, and a pair of tired brown eyes glowered at her, dark circles under them and ruffled gold curls falling over a pale forehead. “Whatever it is, Cassandra, the answer is _no_ ,” came a rough, sleep-filled voice.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet,” she replied flatly. “Open the door.”

“I don’t have to ask, whatever it is, no. It won’t end well.”

The door started to close and Barris watched her set a steel-toed boot in the way.

“ _Dammit, Cassandra—”_

“Children are missing, Cullen,” she growled. “They disappear from their beds with no sign of forced entry and no sign of running away. Their parents find bundles of sticks in the morning. They smell like ozone.”

A weighty pause.

“I need your help, Cullen. The rest of the department isn’t trained to handle this sort of thing, and I only have the vaguest idea where to start.”

A heavy sigh. “ _Sticks_ you said.”

“Yes.”

“How many missing so far?”

“Five.”

“Fuck.”

The door opened all the way, and Barris saw the man who was still a legend in the military, despite his rather sudden and public fall from grace several years prior.

Cullen Rutherford looked tired, disheveled, and stern. His dark slacks were a little rumpled, his white button down half untucked and the sleeves messily pushed up his arms, collar undone and tie crooked. But he also still held himself straight and tall, his broad shoulders squared, his face stern.

“Who’s this?” he asked, and Barris cleared his throat, offered a hand. “Delrin Barris,” he replied, “Detective. I’m working with the Seeker on this case.”

Cullen eyed him for a moment before taking his hand, giving it a single firm shake before dropping it. “Right. You’d both better come inside, then.”

“Actually, we were hoping you’d come to the station with us.”

Cullen sighed heavily, leveled an irritated, flat look at Cassandra before turning and stepping further into his home. “Fine. Then come inside and make yourselves comfortable while I get a few things.”

Barris glanced at Cassandra inquiringly.

She shrugged and her shoulders seemed to lose the tiniest bit of tension for the first time in days. “It’s a start,” she offered and stepped inside. Barris shook his head slightly and stepped in after her.

*-*-*-*-*

“You can’t smoke in here,” Cassandra said.

Cullen, having made himself comfortable in one of her office chairs, merely flicked his eyes up to meet her gaze and held it defiantly as he fished a lighter from his coat pocket and lit the cigarette he’d tucked between his lips.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Your attitude has not changed.”

“I missed you, too.”

She snorted, Barris watching in amazement as a hint of an amused grin tugged at her mouth. That had _almost_ been a laugh.

“So,” Cullen said, shoving the lighter back into his pocket and taking a deep drag, holding the cigarette between two fingers as he blew out a long column of elfroot-and-clove scented smoke. “Dazzle me, Seeker.”

Barris could have sworn he saw the twisting, serpentine shape of a dragon coil briefly in the smoke, felt the tingle of magic. Possibly caught a whiff of ozone. He shivered a little—this was his first case on the other side of ‘normal’ and he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from it or the man with them.

“Five missing children in two weeks,” she replied, dropping a handful of folders onto her desk in front of the man. “All of them under ten years old, no signs of forced entry or sneaking away. Their parents report putting them to bed and in the morning, they were simply gone.”

“And replaced with bundles of sticks.”

“Yes.”

“Alright. And what about the things that happened _before_ the children going missing?”

Cassandra looked at Barris, and he pushed away from his spot against the wall to pick up another stack of folders from his desk, set them beside her stack. “Seven young men went missing. We’ve found…four. Or…what’s left of them,” he said.

Cullen quirked an eyebrow, took another drag before snagging one of the folders to flip it open curiously. His nose wrinkled.

“Maker’s breath,” he muttered.

Barris and Cassandra grimaced in agreement. The photos were just as bad as the scenes. A disturbing _lack_ of blood. The body dismembered and… _gnawed_. The eyes scooped out and tongues missing, silver paint streaked over screaming mouths and faces. Scalp crowned in molten gold.

“We thought they were just random victims until we did a little digging around. They’re all local musicians who ran in the same circles. Nothing big, but the places they performed at all said they were decent. A couple of them taught at a shop.”

“And what made you connect them to missing children?”

“The children are all enrolled in music classes of some sort after school.”

Cullen glanced up, “The same shop?”

Barris nodded.

“And you came to me because of sticks?”

“And,” Cassandra said, sliding a plastic bag over towards him, “This. They didn’t think anything of it at the scenes, despite having several of us question it. Apparently ‘those kind aren’t considered a threat’.”

Cullen picked up the bag, holding it up to the light to examine the smattering of dust inside it. It glittered, an iridescent shimmer. He went a little pale. “Shit. Pixie dust.”

“Seriously?” Barris asked.

Cullen dropped it back on the desk, “Very.”

“Fuck. That means the Twilight Court is going to have to be involved.”

“Involved is a strong word. Just write them a note.”

“Cullen,” Cassandra growled, “We cannot just ‘write them a note’.”

“Fine. _I’ll_ write them a note for you.”

“ _Cullen_.”

“Cassandra.”

Barris turned from the bickering that was beginning, hearing a muffled ruckus coming from outside and opening the door to peer out curiously.

There was a good deal of commotion in the open area, several officers milling around, paper floating in the air and a few trash bins kicked over. A squirming, snarling child was being held by Officer Threnn. Or rather, Threnn was attempting to keep a hold of the small, thrashing form.

“You can’t be back here, kid! How did you even get in here?!”

“Let me go!” the child—a girl, Barris realized—shrieked, kicking out rather viciously as one of the other officers attempted to aid Threnn. “I’m looking for my Da!”

“Kid, look—ow! She bit me!”

“ _What_ is going on?!” Cassandra demanded, stepping around Barris and out of her office, glowering, “Who is that? How did she get back here? Where are her parents?”

“Sorry, Seeker! We’re just— _ouch! Stop that!_ —trying to find out!”

“ _Fenedhis lasa, shem!_ ”

“Dor?!”

The girl abruptly stilled her struggles, the teeth-baring snarl melting from her face as her eyes widened and delicately pointed ears perked faintly. “Da?” she said.

Cullen ducked between Cassandra and Barris, his startled, elated look quickly clouding over as he leveled a dangerous glare at the officers. “ _Get your hands off my daughter_ ,” he snarled.

Threnn and the other officers went a little pale and she quickly set the girl down. “ _Da!_ ” she shrieked gleefully, feet already running as they touched the ground. Cullen dropped to a knee and held his arms out, caught her as she barreled into him babbling rapidly in what sounded like Elvhen.

“ _Maker_ , Dor, it’s good to see you,” he murmured softly, kissing the top of her curly blonde head.

Cassandra had been staring at him, a flabbergasted look on her face. Barris shifted uncomfortably as that look slowly changed to a stormy glower.

“Rutherford,” she snapped, voice tense, “ _Office._ ”

Two golden heads tilted and looked at her with identical quizzical expressions. Barris hastily turned his chuckle into a cough, clearing his throat as he walked back into the office.

“ _Now_ ,” Cassandra added tersely, pointing inside.

Cullen stood, lifting the child as he did so and walking inside, picked up his cigarette from where it had been balanced at the edge of the desk. Her arms looped around his neck, chin resting on his shoulder as she looked around curiously. Her eyes were two different colors, one the same honey-brown as her father, the other an odd, vibrant blue, the faintest ring of purple around the iris.

Barris noticed that she was barefoot, and that her hair was a messy tousle of curls with tiny braids knotted into it. What looked suspiciously like a real bird skull hung from one near her ear, its beak dipped in copper.

Cassandra shut the door firmly, staring at the other man.

“Cass—“ Cullen began, only to be cut off as she sputtered, indicating the girl. “ _You have a daughter and you never told me?!”_ she exclaimed, “ _Explain!_ ”

“It’s…a bit complicated. And a long story.”

Her eyes narrowed, “I will drag it out of you, later.”

Cullen winced and carefully set the girl on her feet, gently turning her to face the glowering woman and Barris. “Dor, this is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and Detective Delrin Barris. They need my help with a case they’re working on,” he said, “Cassandra, Barris, this is Adorah. My daughter.”

Dor peered at them through several wild curls and smiled brightly at them, “Hello!”

Barris returned the smile, “Hello, Dor. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Adorah,” Cassandra said, “How did you get in here?”

“I opened a door that would take me to Da.”

“I’m sorry?”

“A door. I needed to find Da so I opened the door what would take me to him. I’m not supposed to, except in emergencies.”

Cullen was back on a knee by her, gently turning her to face him again, brow furrowed, “Speaking of—Dor, where is your mother? What happened, why were you looking for me?”

Dor’s cheer seemed to evaporate all at once and she sucked in a sharp breath, her lower lip trembling. “Mamae told me to run and find you as fast as I could. She and Abi had another door open, they were looking for something, and something else started to come through. Something bad—I couldn’t see it, though, Abi pushed me out of the room and that’s when Mamae said to find you.”

Cullen’s face had gone ashen and he swallowed roughly. “When did this happen?”

“I…I don’t know anymore. Something chased me when I opened a door to get away, so I had to open other doors to get away from it before I could open the one to find you. I had to open _a lot_ of doors, Da.”

“Shit,” he muttered, getting back to his feet, “Cassandra, I need to go. I don’t know when I’ll—”

“No,” she said, flatly, unlocking her desk drawer and pulling out her gun safe. Barris followed her lead, pulled his from the drawer as well.

“Cassandra, _I have to_ —”

“Yes,” she agreed, “But no, you’re not going alone. We are going with you, because you are going to need help, and I am not letting you get away from me _that_ easily.”

“Cassandra.”

“How old are you?” she asked Dor.

Dor tilted her head, “Almost ten.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows, “All the children have been ten and under, Cullen. Something _chased_ her. We’re going with you.”

Cullen made an irritated sound, “Fine. But I know you’re being nosy.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Seeker.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t. For your child.”

“Da can hold his own. Mostly.”

Barris snorted, hastily forced another cough when Cullen gave him a look.

“Thank you, darling,” Cullen said dryly, “Let’s go find your mother.”

“We taking the car?” Barris asked.

“No. She’s in another city. Driving will take too long.”

“Then how…?”

“Me!” Dor said brightly, “I’ll open the door to Abi’s library. It’s always open. You’ll have to hold my hand, though, otherwise you might get lost.”

“Oh…kay…?”

Cassandra and Barris moved to stand near Cullen as Dor walked over to the window and pulled down the framed pictures beside it, set them carefully on the ground.

“What does she mean, opening the door?” Cassandra asked, “Any of the doors? Is she—Is this magic, Cullen?”

“Doors are everywhere, silly!” Dor informed them, “You just have to see them. And then opening them is easy, you do what you do for any old door.”

“And that is…?” Barris asked slowly, a dubious look on his face.

She grinned impishly at him, “You knock. Duh.”

And she did; she raised a small fist and knocked confidently three times on the wall by the window. And then she pushed.

And Cassandra and Barris gaped as a door that had not been there a moment before swung open, shifting blue and green light swirling in it.


	2. Tentacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cassandra, Barris, and Cullen rush to the rescue.

**Ph'nglui mglw'nafh **Cthulhu R'lyeh**  wgah'nagl  **fhtagn****

 

Stepping through the doorway was a decidedly uncomfortable experience. It had been cold and almost wet, at first, followed by the oddest feeling of _nothing_ , gray mist licking at their arms and feet and faces.

Barris thought, for a moment, he saw shapes in the mist, dark figures that danced and leapt about, others twisted, hunched forms that reached towards them with clawed hands. _Whispers_.

“Ignore them,” came Cullen’s voice from somewhere behind them, “They’ll try to tempt you off the path.”

“And what happens if that works?”

“You become one of them,” Dor said from his side. He couldn’t see any of them, but he could feel the girl’s warm hand holding his tightly. “Or they eat you,” she added after a moment.

“Lovely,” Barris muttered.

There was another burst of cold and then their sight was returned to them as they stepped into a large, warm library.

The room was paneled in rich dark woods and lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves. There was even a push-along ladder that slid along a track around the room, and what seemed to be a slide connected to a spiral staircase that led up to the second floor.

There were two plush, luxurious couches, an equally luxurious chaise lounge, and a big enough pile of cushions to make a decent pillow-fort. A long table sat at the other side of the room, near the two big bay windows, seemingly growing up from the floor itself.

Glass globes rested in sconces along the wall and floated in the air, giving off soft, comfortable light.

The hair on their arms and the back of their necks stood straight on end.

The air reeked of ozone and something almost-dead. Barris sneezed.

“Bless you,” Cassandra said.

“Ugh. Sorry—thanks.”

“Something is really wrong here,” Cullen muttered, looking around, “Too damn still.”

“Dor, where are your mother and…?” Caassandra looked to the girl, who trotted quickly to the solid wooden door.

“Abi,” she said, “They were in the lab.”

“Oh, _there’s_ good news,” Cullen muttered, again. Barris looked at him questioningly. The other man smiled dryly, “Never been in a sorcerer’s lab where something didn’t go very wrong.”

“ _Fucking hell_ ,” Barris sighed.

They hurried after Dor, who led them out of the library and down a long hall and through another door that led down winding stone steps. The air got cooler, and the smell of magic and almost-dead things got stronger.

There was a moment when something tugged at them, pulled at clothes and hair, stung skin and eyes—and then it released them and they came out of the stair well and into a large room that glowed in eerie green light.

A hole was torn in the air, large, purplish tentacles slithering out of it, hundreds of eyes leering down at them.

Two bodies stood before the rift, a man and a woman. The woman was Elvhen, judging from the pointed ears and tattooed face. She had short, dark red hair and a tall, willowy frame. The man was human, skin a delicate shade of soft brown, with dark, stylishly cut hair and an immaculately groomed mustache.

She was planted in front of him, a glowing staff held aloft in her hands, a thick blue barrier surrounding them. The man crouched by her feet, arms ringed with glowing runes and circles. Their eyes glowed a sparkling blue.

And everything was frozen, time stopped at the precise few seconds after the mass of eyes and tentacles had reached out through the rift.

“ _Maker’s breath_ ,” Cassandra breathed, eyes widening. Barris stared in shock, both understanding and yet not understanding what he was looking at. The Special Forces had prepared him in how to put down preternatural threats. His training as a detective had given him a fundamental knowledge of the workings of magic and the shadowy supernatural world that prowled alongside their own.

But nothing had really prepared him to see big ass tentacles tearing through the air and to see time seemingly at a stand-still.

“Dorian figured it out, I see,” Cullen observed tonelessly, grinding his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe and pocketing the remainder of it.

Dor beamed, “Abi is brilliant!”

“So he’s said. Many times. Let’s get that barrier down and…deal with whatever _that_ is,” her father replied, looking around before walking over and helping himself to a sword that hung from the wall.

Barris and Cassandra glanced down at the guns that were strapped to their waists, then shared a look.

Cassandra helped herself to another sword that hung from the wall. Barris eyed the other options before helping himself to a rather mean looking axe.

“Do you know how to use those?” Dor asked curiously.

“I taught your father,” Cassandra said coolly. Cullen gave her a reproachful look, “I knew _basics_ already, thank you.”

“I chopped wood at my gran’s cabin every summer,” Barris told her with a shrug. “Same idea, right?”

“I guess,” the girl replied dubiously, “That’s just gonna be wiggly.”

“Can you pull the barrier down, darling?” Cullen asked.

“Yep!”

“Should’ve had that second cup of coffee,” Barris grumbled under his breath.

*-*-*-*-*

The barrier dissolved the moment Dor’s fingertips touched it, the glowing circle’s around the man’s arms flaring and picking up rotations again as time began to pick up speed until everything was in sync once more and the circles shattered.

“I found him!” Dor called.

“And just in time, too, I don’t think I could have held that much longer!” the man shouted back, and ducked as a tentacle swiped at his head.

“Da’vhenan, stay back!” the woman said sharply.

Dor skittered backwards immediately, ducking under a work bench against the wall and Barris brought the axe down on the tentacle that went after her.

There was a soft, satisfying _chunk_ as it cut through, and bright green blood spattered everywhere, slime stretching up from the flesh to the axe as he pulled it back.

“ _Ew_ ,” he grimaced.

“Be disgusted later!” Cullen suggested, ducking a swipe that was taken at him and hurrying over to the pair of mages. “Can you banish it?”

Electricity arced up around them, jolting the tentacles that swept around them and causing them to recoil, twitching and roiling on themselves violently. “We’ll need a minute,” the woman replied.

“Got any bone dust on you?” the man asked.

Cullen stared at him for a moment before his face grew vaguely thoughtful and he reached into an inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a small vial, handed it off to the man. “Last one on me,” he said.

The man raised it cheerfully, “I’ll be sure to repay the interest.”

Cullen nodded and stepped out of the crackling circle of lightning, ducked another swing and fell in beside Cassandra, who seemed to wield the sword as easily as she fired her pistol.

“I am _definitely_ dragging an explanation out of you!” she informed him tightly.

“Buy me a drink, first!”

“Not a chance, you ass!”

He grinned despite himself, was a touch too slow on dodging a slimy appendage and received a solid hit across his torso, one that lifted him up and threw him across the room to crash into the wall.

“Da!” Dor screamed, starting out from her hiding place.

“Stay!” Barris barked at her sharply, hurrying over to help the other man up. Cullen coughed, dazed, and shook his head, accepted the hand offered. “ _Fuck_ ,” he croaked as he got back to his feet.

“You good?” Barris asked.

Cullen coughed again and nodded, “Little winded. Right behind you.”

Barris nodded sharply, once, and hurried back to help Cassandra, barely sliding in beside her in time to hack another chunk of tentacle out of the one that went for her back. Cullen was two heartbeats behind him and there were several long moments before there was a sulfur-smelling whiff of air, the sound of rattling bones followed by a bright flash of ominous, sickly green-yellow light.

The tentacles abruptly recoiled, the eyes winking out with a loud shriek.

There was a sharp snapping sound as the two mages clapped their hands together, the glow of their eyes going purple and their voices chanting, words rumbling out and shaking stone and air. Cullen winced and clapped his hands to his ears, where a trickle of blood had emerged.

Barris shuddered and grabbed his head with a wince as sharp pain lanced through it, a dribble of warm sliding down his ear, grateful when Cassandra seized his arm to keep him from falling over. She seemed rather unaffected apart from a pale look to her face and the thin, grim set of her mouth.

The thing in the rift screamed again before a massive force blew it backwards with a thunderclap and flash of lightning, the rift coiling in on itself and disappearing in a blinding flash of light.

The pain in their heads cleared. Silence fell, save for the ringing in their ears and the man staggered before dropping carefully onto the floor.

“ _Well_ ,” he said, “That was fun. Anybody dead?”

“Almost,” came Cullen’s grumpy reply. “That was Elder-speech, what the _fuck_ were you doing?”

“Checking a hunch. The good news is, the hunch was wrong!”

“Mamae! Abi!” Dor rolled out from under her table, sprinted over to tackle the man into a crushing hug.

“Dor!” he roared happily, catching her and returning the embrace, “My little hero!”

The woman knelt by them and wrapped her arms tightly around the girl, “My clever da’vhenan!”

Barris had gotten himself back on his feet, stood awkwardly by with Cassandra, who shifted from foot to foot, cleared her throat. He pressed a fingertip to the side of his face and found it dotted with blood when he pulled it back. He grimaced.

The three looked up at them, and Cullen walked over to stand near them. “Ah, they came with me,” he said, “Cassandra, Barris, this is Altus Dorian Pavus, Sorcerer…something or other, and Ser Pria Lavellan, Knight-Enchanter and my—” he paused, stumbling over a word before continuing, “Dor’s mother.”

He gestured to Barris and Cassandra, “Dorian, Pria, this is Seeker Cassandra and Detective Barris. I’m assisting them on a case.”

“Looking for those missing children?” Dorian said, “Nasty business, that.”

“ _How_ —” Cassandra began, was interrupted by Dorian pointing at himself, “ _Sorcerer_. And I get my news from a significantly better source than most.”

“Human children get snatched up, the faery in the cities hear about it,” Pria said, “We tend to get the blame for that kind of thing.”

“No one’s blaming anyone,” Barris objected. She smiled thinly, “Yet.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Pria scooped her daughter up, allowing Dorian to clamber back to his feet, grimacing. “Ugh. Slime, everywhere. I’ll have to burn these clothes. So! Who needs coffee?”

“ _Me_ ,” Barris and Cassandra said immediately.

“To the kitchen, then! And you, Cullen?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, “Probably.”

“We’ll be there in a moment,” Pria said, kissing Dor’s cheek and setting her down, “Go with them, da’vhenan, I have to patch your father up.”

Cullen blinked and looked down, giving himself a once over and found that his arm was bleeding rather nicely, his coat and shirt gashed open. “ _Dammit_.”

“The finest Tevene coffee for us all, and a hot chocolate for the lovely Dor,” Dorian said, smoothing an affectionate hand over her wild hair, “Come along, my little savage.”

Dor smiled impishly and took Cassandra and Barris’ hands again, tugging them along after her and Dorian as he led the way out of the lab.

Cullen swallowed nervously and glanced at the Elvhen woman standing beside him. “Are you…alright?” he asked quietly.

She wrinkled her nose, “A little slimy and tired, but alright otherwise, thanks to you coming when you did. Come on, let me clean that up. If there’s any slime in that cut, you’re not going to like what happens.”

“That’s…so encouraging.”

He followed her out of the lab, back up the stairs and down the hall into a little room filled with plants and drying herbs. He sat obligingly on the tall stool she pointed to and watched her wash her hands and gather clean rags, a small first aid kit, a jar of what was probably salve.

She nudged another stool over by him and set her materials down. “Take your shirt off,” she said.

He tried to fight the crooked grin that snuck onto his face, failed to as he shucked off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, undid his tie. “It’s been awhile since you’ve told me to do that,” he murmured quietly, a little playfully.

She paused as she moved to clean his arm and just looked at him.

He flushed and cleared his throat, looked away, and she resumed her task after a moment, wiping away the blood on his skin and starting to clean the cut left behind. “This is going to sting, but it will burn out anything left behind,” she said.

He nodded and then swore quietly as she poured a burning liquid onto the cut, fire racing through his nerves. “Hm. I guess you did have a little slime in there.”

“ _I guess so._ ”

“It’s gone now, you can drop the tone.”

A short, wry chuckle escaped him, more of a sharp exhalation than a laugh and he flexed his hand a few times to help get rid of the burning tingle left behind by the medicine. Pria moved a little, stepping between his knees as she finished cleaning up his arm and shoulder. He breathed in, deeply and quietly, the scent of pine needles and vanilla filling his head and making the familiar old ache in his chest worse.

Three years. He hadn’t seen her in three years, had spoken to her maybe twice in that time. People who said time healed all wounds were fucking stupid because being near her now, with everything still between them, still hurt as bad as the day it did when she had left their apartment with Dor.

“How’ve you been?” he asked softly.

“I’m sure Dorian’s told you when you two get together to play chess.”

“Yes but…that’s not the same as hearing it from _you_.”

“I’m as well as I can be.”

“Pria…”

“We are not having this discussion right now, Cullen.”

She tensed as his hand settled lightly on her waist, freezing in her task. His hand was warm, a spot of fire through her shirt. She forced herself not to shiver, forced herself to ignore the leather-and-musk smell of him.

“Then when will we?”

She tensed a little more as he gently pulled her closer to him, his other hand tangling in the belt loops of her jeans. “I don’t know.”

“Pria, _please_. It’s been—I’ve…I’m _trying_ , I—”

“Dorian’s told me.”

“Then what—”

“I don’t _know_!” she snapped, pushing his hands away, “You _lied_ to me. You lied about that _stupid_ poison, and then you lied about how badly it was affecting you.”

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he swallowed harshly, curling his hands into tight fists on his knees. His nails bit into his palms, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the stinging in his eyes.

“I’m _so sorry_ ,” he whispered.

She growled faintly, the faintest flash of sharp teeth as her lip curled before her face smoothed out and she picked up a jar and rubbed a thin layer of salve over the cut in quick, sure motions. “I know,” she replied.

The salve was capped and she picked up another jar, this one with a brush attached to the lid. She layered on a generous bit over the cut and the edges of it before gently pinching it together, sealing it. A light gauze bandage was placed on top of it and taped in place.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Sure. Try not to tear it open. Put your shirt on.”

The edge in her voice stung more than the salve, but he did pull his shirt back into place, fastened the buttons as she cleaned up the supplies. She reached for his tie when she was done, paused when she touched the silk, her brow crinkling in consternation.

He tried to smile, only half succeeded with a faint grin that was more of a grimace, and it faded quickly, “Did you ever figure out how to tie these?”

“Barely,” she replied quietly, still frowning. Her eyes flicked from the black silk to him and he felt an old thrill go through him as those bright, blue-violet eyes settled on him. “I still don’t understand this sometimes, Cullen. I…I _loved you_. _So much_. But…but I _hate you_ for doing that to me. For making me so happy to leave everything I knew, everything I had, for a _mortal_. For giving me what we had and then taking it away by _lying_ to me. That was the one thing I said you could not do, but you _did_ and I _hate you_ for it.”

Cullen’s breath left him in one rush, the pain hitting him like a punch to the gut. _I hate you._ _Hate_. The stinging came back to his eyes and his vision blurred.

“No, Pria, _please don’t_ —”

She shook her head, dropping the tie as if it had burned her, her pretty eyes glassy and wild and angry. “We’ll be in the kitchen,” she told him, flatly, and then she was gone, with barely a whisper, the space in front of him deeply and obviously now _void_ of her presence.

A sob tore from his chest and he quickly covered his mouth to muffle the sound as hot tears poured out of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT THE HELL THIS IS A NEW SIDE OF PRIA. I LIKE IT. FUN IS HAD.
> 
> Also, I firmly believe that Dorian would adopt any child of her and Cullen's because they are his BFFs and someone has to lead that child down the path that rocks. So...yeah, essentially Dor has two dads. More birthday presents for her, right?
> 
> Oh. Almost forgot. "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" means "In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming". I like to toss in a little Lovecraft when I can because WHY NOT. Show of hands, how many of you got a little nervous when you saw the chapter was titled "Tentacles"?


	3. Coffee and Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza is had for dinner. An explanation is given. Sort of.

**They were clouds in my coffee**

 

The coffee was the best damn coffee Barris could remember having in a long while—extra strong and sharp, with just the right amount of sweet from the sugar Dorian had whisked into the pot. It was served in little porcelain cups painted with peacocks and phoenix and there were little balls of fried, heavily spiced dough soaked in syrup to eat with it. He and Dor had bonded very quickly over a shared love of them, the girl showing him how to break them open and spoon a little bit of the coffee into the tender center.

That made them even _better_.

“I’m never drinking coffee from the station, ever again,” he told Cassandra seriously. “ _Ever_.”

“I’m going to remind you that you said that when you eventually do,” she replied. Dor giggled.

Pria walked into the kitchen, smiled at the sticky mess that was Dor’s hands and face. “Wash up, you goose,” she said, pointing to the sink, “Or goblins will come steal you away to their King.”

“I’m not afraid of the Goblin King!”

“I know, but I won’t have you taking over his kingdom, either. Wash up.”

“Maybe I _want_ to stage a coup, though,” Dor grumbled, sliding from her stool and walking over the sink to wash her face and hands. Pria raised an eyebrow, “What’s a coup, Dor?”

“Uhm. I guess it means when you kick somebody out and take over?”

Pria looked at Dorian. The man widened his eyes innocently, “She’s a brilliant child, my dearest, who am I to stop her from _learning_?”

“Stop putting ideas of political insurrection into her head. Wait until she’s twelve or so.”

“I could arrest him for child endangerment,” Cassandra offered, and Barris snorted into his coffee at the look Dorian gave the woman.

“Don’t tempt me,” Pria replied with a teasing grin. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Yes!” Dor said, clambering back onto her stool, “Because I’m not opening a door to take them back until I get food! And because Da has to stay for dinner!”

Barris saw the tension that slid down Pria’s spine, glanced over to Cassandra who had raised an eyebrow. Dorian cleared his throat, “Perhaps we should make sure that your father and his fine companions are _able to_.”

Dor turned wide, pleading eyes onto the pair, her lower lip pouting out and quivering. Barris was almost certain he _felt_ Cassandra crumple at the look.

“I…suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” she said slowly, “We could…get some questions answered?”

“Right!” Barris agreed, catching the reasoning she was forming to cover their sudden and long absence from the station, “Professional expertise and all that. From our consultant and his…contacts.”

“Exactly.”

Dorian and Pria looked at them oddly but shrugged and allowed it. “Vegetable tagine for a large party, then,” Dorian said, “And I’m not it for cooking.”

Pria huffed and glowered at him, “Excuse you.”

“I’m rubbish at cooking, you know that.”

“No, you’re not, you just like to get out of it.”

“I’m exhausted, Pria! I’ve had time frozen for…what day is it?”

“Thursday,” Cassandra said.

“Thursday! Two days, then! I have frozen time in this house for _two days_.”

“And I had a barrier up for all that time, I’m just as tired as you are.”

“Frozen. Time.”

“Slowing. Shielding. Barrier.”

“I could order a couple of pizzas,” Barris offered.

“ _Pizza!_ ” Dor exclaimed, “ _Mamae, Abi, pizza._ ”

Dorian and Pria exchanged looks and nodded. “Pizza,” they agreed.

*-*-*-*-*

A little quibbling over toppings later and a quick search for a nearby place and Cullen walked into the kitchen as Barris was hanging up from placing the order. The man looked a little drawn, his eyes a little red.

Cassandra’s eyes swept over him appraisingly and she frowned at him, an expression he duly ignored as he sat at Dor’s other side. The girl turned, leaning in to poke at the tear in his coat sleeve. “I can fix that, if you want,” she offered, “We’re having pizza for dinner because Mamae and Abi couldn’t stop arguing over who should cook.”

“Passionate discussion,” Dorian corrected.

“You call it what you want, Abi.”

“Probably for the best,” Cullen said, accepting a cup of coffee that Cassandra passed him from the pot beside her, “Last time you cooked, I remember there being a good deal of extra fire being involved.”

“Yes, well, nobody warned me that a swarm of kobolds had gotten into the kitchen. The little pests had to be dealt with.”

“Kobolds?” Barris asked.

“Small goblinoids,” Cassandra said, “We usually don’t deal with them because reports of the damage they do don’t get to us.”

“The Twilight Court does prefer things to stay quiet on this side,” Dorian put in, “Not that it really stops things, which is why they have people like you two.”

“And Da!”

“Adorah my sweet, there is no one like your father.”

Cullen eyed Dorian over his coffee cup, his narrowed eyes weighing if that was an insult or not. Dorian patted his shoulder as he walked around the island to retrieve the coffee pot, “It was both.”

Cullen snorted and rolled his eyes, hand reaching into his pocket.

“ _No_ ,” Dorian said dryly, “Don’t you dare smoke in my house.”

Cullen sighed and pulled his hand out of his pocket. Cassandra scoffed, “But you smoke in my office!”

“You can’t make cigarettes blow up in my face.”

“Then I’ll _learn_.”

“Sure, Seeker.”

“Am I fixing your coat or not, Da?” Dor said. He nodded, “Alright, Dor, go for it.”

She smiled and passed a hand over the rip, and Barris watched in fascination as loose threads wove themselves back together, torn ends knitting into solid lines again. “Handy little trick,” he murmured.

“It’s the first thing Abi taught me to do when I was littler.”

“It was that or teach you to sew at age three. Your parents didn’t think you handling a needle at that age was a good idea.”

“Teaching her how to light candles wasn’t much better,” Pria and Cullen both shot back. They glanced at one another, Cullen looking away much more quickly than the elf. “Thank you, Dor,” he said, brushing a bit of her hair behind her ear. She beamed and hooked her arms around his, hugging it as she leaned into his side.

“I’m glad you’re here, Da. I missed you.”

Cassandra caught the pained look that flashed over his face, the sad one that drooped Pria’s ears.

“I missed you too, sweet,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head softly.

A bell rang.

“Ah, and the feast has arrived!” Dorian stood, his voice perhaps a bit brighter, a touch louder than needed. “Dor, plates and glasses!”

He strolled briskly from the room and the girl hopped down to retrieve the things, had them set on the island by the time Dorian returned with three pizza boxes in hand.

“So,” Pria said as she helped open lids and tuck them under, “What can we do to help you with this case?”

*-*-*-*-*

Stepping through the doorway again was just as unpleasant as the first trip through.

Barris was glad to see the walls of the office as they came into the room, scrubbed a hand over his face. It had been a _long_ day.

“Can I stay with you, Da?” Dor asked

Cullen knelt down by her to hug her tightly. “Not right now, Dor,” he replied, “I have a few things to do when I leave here. Besides, your mother will worry.”

“I could tell her I’m helping you.”

“You don’t need to meet some of the people I’m going to be seeing.”

“Aw, Da!”

“Adorah.”

She blew a loud raspberry but didn’t argue, instead hugging him around the neck. “Can I see you after, then?”

“I…we’ll see, darling. I’ll have to talk to your mother about it.”

“Abi can bring me! Like he did the last few times!”

Cullen smiled and kissed her forehead, “We’ll see. Now go home, sweet. It’s time for bed.”

“ _Blegh._ ”

“Dor.”

“ _Fi-i-ine_ ,” the girl sighed, hugging him again before turning to hug a startled Cassandra and Barris. “I’ll see you later!”

“Sure,” Barris said, “Next time you want a coffee buddy.”

Dor smiled impishly and knocked on the empty wall, the doorway opening again. “Bye, Da,” she said, getting one more hug from him and kissing his cheek, “You take care of yourself, okay?”

He gently tickled her sides, making her laugh and squirm. “I will, light of my life. Go on, now.”

She nodded and stepped through the doorway, leaving the blank wall behind her. The three stared after it for a moment before Barris bent and picked up the frames, rehanging them and gently pressing his hand against the smooth paneling.

“ _Huh_ ,” he said.

“ _Now_ will you explain?” Cassandra asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Cullen, who paused in the middle of lighting a cigarette. She glared at him, “Really.”

He stared back at her for a moment, and then flicked the lighter to life.

She made an annoyed, disgusted sound.

Barris cleared his throat, scooted over to grab his jacket from his desk, “I think I’m going to step out. Let you two uhm, catch up. See you tomorrow, Seeker?”

“Yes—good-night, Barris.”

“G’night. Comman—er, Rutherford.”

“See you, Detective.”

Barris ducked out, shutting the door quietly behind him. Cullen sighed heavily, releasing a stream of smoke. “He’s military, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He was a Templar, too, right up until they suspended the program.”

“How long was that?”

“Three years, I think.”

“Oh. Well. Good. I’m glad he’s…adjusted.”

“You’re stalling.”

“It’s really none of your business, Cass.”

“ _You have a child with a woman who you have not married. This is not like you._ ”

“Faeries don’t understand the concept of marriage.”

“Dor’s mother seemed to have a firm understanding of how things operate on our side of the line.”

Cullen grunted and took a long drag, exhaling smoke from his nose as he breathed out, “I fucked up.”

“That is not an explanation.”

“Yes, it is. I only had to do one thing, and I fucked up. So now Pria doesn’t care to see me and I only get to really see my daughter when Dorian brings her by or if I _happen_ to be near them, which isn’t often considering they’re in Minrathous most of the time.”

“Wait—We were in…?”

“Minrathous. Yes.”

“…I am even more impressed than I was with the doors.”

Cullen grinned, looking rather the proud father, “Dor is brilliant.”

“What happened, Cullen?”

His grin died, falling from his face like a stone. “...Pria left her home to be with me, under the one condition that I never lie to her. And then I lied to her. So she took Dor and left.”

Cassandra tilted her head, looking at him quietly, the slightest wave of her hand prompting him further.

He made an irritated sound, “She didn’t like that the Templar program had us on lyrium. She told me that, but since it was my decision to continue it, she let it go. But I didn’t…things started going bad.”

“You got addicted, like many of the others.”

“Yes. And I started using it when I was off duty because I noticed that all the nightmares and panic attacks and…everything that I dealt with _before_ the lyrium was better when I used that stuff. It…numbed things. But I started to get resistant, so I kept having to take more and more and when I couldn’t get it I…” he shook his head and scrubbed it through his hair, “We started arguing and I started having problems keeping my temper in check. She asked if I was using outside of the program and I told her no. She found…she found a couple empty vials and my kit, a few weeks later. So she packed Dor up and left, because I lied and she didn’t want Dor to see me like that. Or to hear us shouting at each other.”

“Cullen,” Cassandra stepped over and set a hand on his, squeezing tightly, “Maker, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“Is…is that what helped you turn around? Why you called me and had me set up an appointment?”

He nodded. “If I did it, I wouldn’t have followed through. But I knew you wouldn’t let me out of it, you never let me out of anything.”

She laughed slightly in a self-depreciating way, “I guess it’s only fair then that you get to smoke in my office.”

“I would, anyway.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? About Dor? About Pria?”

“I didn’t tell anyone. At the time I was still on active duty. They really discouraged families, and if they had found out I had taken up with a _faery_ of all things…well. You know how the old fuckers in the military are, what they said when the Twilight Court actually came forward to tell us they were around.”

“You wanted to protect them so you said nothing about them.”

“And then I fucked it all up.”

“But…you’ve gotten so much better! You’ve gotten _help_ , you have done so _well_ —Surely, you and Pria can…can talk or…?”

“I don’t think that’s an option anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Let it go, Cass.”

“Cullen, you _deserve to_ —”

“ _Drop it._ ”

She sighed sharply through her nose and stared at him. He looked back at her tiredly, “Just…stop. I know you mean well. But I don’t think this will end like one of your books. Faeries don’t forget things, and they don’t forgive easily. They feel things differently. I broke the one rule she gave me. Now I have to deal with that.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Not so much. It was an easy rule, and I was too much of a coward to follow it.”

Barris burst back into the office just then, panting, and startled the both of them.

“Barris! What are you on about?!” Cullen snapped.

“We got another body,” came the breathless reply.

“ _Fuck,”_ Cassandra hissed, “Same as the others?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“The lake.”

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Cullen watched her hastily grab her jacket and pull it on.

“The lake, huh?” he observed, raising an eyebrow, “That’s interesting.”

“What? Why? Do you know something?” Barris asked.

“Nope. But I know of something in the lake that could probably tell us a thing or two.”

Cassandra shoved a laminated badge into his hands, “Wonderful. Then you are officially our professional consultant for this case. Let’s go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barris is Dor's bestie, he just might not know it right now. Anyway, in my head, Tevinter coffee is that insanely strong shit like you'd get in Italy or Turkey. The black as midnight stuff that comes in cute, itty-bitty cups because it will whip your ass--if not for the face that any Tevinter worth their stuff whips sugar into the hot brew right in the pot. 
> 
> It delights me to think that Cullen calls Cassandra "Cass" and gets away with it, though I'm like 99.9% certain that she refuses to respond when anyone else tries. Their friendship gives me life.


	4. Butterscotch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lead is found. Butterscotch is involved. Cassandra and Barris learn a lesson.

**Smoke on the water, fire in the sky**

 

There was a place on the shore of the lake that was swarming with police and scene analysts. Cassandra and Barris led the way over there, ducking under yellow tape and Cullen trailed along after them, fussing with the badge Cassandra had given him. He just couldn’t seem to find a place to clip it to his jacket where it didn’t annoy the hell out of him.

“Do I really have to wear this?”

“Yes— _ugh_. Give me that,” she growled, snatching it from his hand and clipping it to his collar, “There. _Don’t touch it_.”

He grimaced and she lifted the tape. “In.”

He ducked under and followed them over to where an older officer stood, keeping an eye on the two analysts who were bagging up the hands and feet of the body. He was tall, and broad, strong looking despite the gray streaks that were starting to show in his beard.

“Blackwall,” Cassandra greeted.

He inclined his head, “Seeker. Detective. Glad you’re here. Who’s this? He have clearance?”

“He has clearance because he’s with us,” she replied, “Blackwall, this is Cullen Rutherford. He’s our…expert consultant on this case.”

Blackwall raised an eyebrow, “Rutherford? The one who raised three sorts of hell about the Templar program?”

“That…yes. That was me,” Cullen replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m more into private investigation these days.”

“Cassandra told me a little bit about that,” Blackwall offered a hand, “Good to meet you. What you did took some guts.”

Cullen looked a little startled—in his experience his vehement whistle-blowing on the Templar program was greeted with luke-warm reception, at best—and took the older man’s hand, “Uhm. Thank you.”

“You need to see anything? They’re about ready to bag the body up.”

“A peek.”

“Right. Two minutes.”

Blackwall moved over to the analysts, gesturing back to the other three and the two shared a glance before getting to their feet and stepping back. Cassandra moved forward, Barris and Cullen just after her once Blackwall motioned them over.

Cullen fished a pair of surgical gloves from his jacket and pulled them on, caught the look Barris gave him and smiled crookedly. “You only get your hands elbow deep into a rotting body of something once before you start carrying gloves,” he explained and Barris grimaced.

“I don’t think I want to know,” he said.

“It was a dead ogre. Two weeks in the summer heat. Exploded everywhere.”

“ _Ugh!_ I said I didn’t want to know!”

Cullen snickered as he crouched near the open body bag, delicately pulling the side down.

“Signs of trauma?” he asked, glancing at the analysts, who shook their head.

“Not from a cursory look,” one said, “The M.E. will have to look more closely, but we’re guessing the gold on his head probably had something to do with cause of death.”

Cullen looked up, eyed the rivulets of cooled metal running over the young man’s face, his hair clumped and tangled into a mocking crown. The mouth was smudged with shimmering silver and he leaned over for a slightly closer look, carefully tilting the dead man’s head down a little. An eyebrow lifted.

“Hm.”

He swept a finger in the man’s mouth, ignoring protests from the analysts, was unsurprised to find the tongue had been cleanly removed. He pulled his hand away, a single flower petal pinched between thumb and forefinger.

“It’s not the season for lilacs,” Barris said. When Blackwall looked at him questioningly, he shrugged sheepishly, “My mum owns a flower shop.”

“You’re not wrong, Barris. This wasn’t picked recently, though, and I think our man here was dead before he had gold poured on his head.”

“Why?” Blackwall asked.

“Because,” Cullen got back to his feet, “Lilacs make a lovely wine that will have a human giddy after one cup. Two and you’re three sheets to the wind. Three and you’re out cold.”

“Voice of experience?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Blackwall bit back a knowing chuckle.

“But what does that have to do with how he was killed?” Cassandra asked.

“Do you have the autopsy reports back on the others?” Cullen looked at her, eyebrows raised, “Anything at all?”

“Not yet.”

“Hm,” he looked at the analysts, “Look for blood in the lungs.”

“What?”

“Three cups of wine and you have an unconscious human who doesn’t struggle when you chain them down. Who won’t try to fight you when you cut their tongue out. One who probably won’t wake up until they’re drowning in their own blood.” Cullen set the petal back on the young man’s lips, “Let me know if I’m right. Excuse me, I have to talk to something.”

With that he walked away, ducking back under the yellow tape as he pulled his gloves off. They stared after him, a chill going down their backs.

“Private investigation,” Blackwall said, now sounding doubtful. “Investigation of _what_ , exactly?”

“Things in our jurisdiction but vastly out of our playing field,” Cassandra replied wryly. “Let’s follow him, Barris. Thank you, Blackwall.”

The man nodded and watched them walk after Cullen, looked back to the two analysts, “Let’s get this boy bagged up and out of here.”

*-*-*-*-*

They found Cullen dropping a blood smeared leaf into the water, a fingertip pinched in a wadded green bandana.

“What you were talking about,” Barris said, Cullen turning slightly to look at him, “It sounded like ritual.”

“Could be. We should hope it isn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because anything involving fae and ritualistic magic is not a good thing. Someone gets a really bad deal.”

“Someone already has,” Cassandra noted a bit pointedly and the two men grimaced in acknowledgement.

There was a bubbling sound and the three looked to the surface of the lake, Cullen sighing a little heavily. “I hate dealing with this thing. Barris, stay a little behind Cassandra. Cass, if Barris starts towards the water, drop him,” he said.

They looked at him oddly.

“For your own good, Barris,” Cullen clarified, “You’re a good looking young man. Just the sort Gad likes to collect.”

Barris shivered a little and moved to stand beside Cassandra, “And…what is Gad?”

A dark form surged from the water, splashing and dripping as it came to the shore. A horse, so dark green to be nearly black, with reeds and algae tangled in its mane and long, wicked silver claws where hooves should have been. Two opalescent eyes stared at them.

“A kelpie,” Cullen replied, turning to face the creature, “Hello, Gad.”

“Kindred,” the kelpie replied in a whispery, slithering voice.

“I need information, Gad.”

“Then I will need payment.”

“What do you want?”

Gad sighed, tossing its sleek head, white eyes settling on Barris. “Let that one ride on my back and you can ask as many questions as you like.”

Cassandra took a step and planted herself in front of Barris, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. Gad shook its head again, a hissing noise escaping it. She realized it was laughing, after a moment.

“That one is all steel and dragon-fire,” it hissed in amusement.

“Want something else, Gad,” Cullen said.

“Don’t be stupid, mortal dog-lord. I cannot stop wanting what I want any more than you can. Where is she, by the way? That pretty she-elf that was with you last—you smell like her, but it is faint.”

Cullen’s shoulders tensed, his jaw tightening with a faint tick. Barris peered out from behind Cassandra, “Easy, Rutherford. Breathe it out.”

He let out a sharp breath, rolled his head slowly before digging in another coat pocket, though his jaw remained clenched. “How about this, Gad,” he said, pulling out a piece of gold candy wrapped in bright yellow cellophane, “I have a whole bag of it.”

The kelpie’s ears suddenly pricked, its head tilting up so its snout could scent the breeze, snuffling wetly.

“Is…is that butterscotch?” Cassandra whispered. “I _think_ so?” Barris whispered back, equally confused by the odd turn this already weird situation had suddenly taken.

“One question,” Gad said. Cullen snorted, unwrapped the candy, and popped it in his mouth, “A whole bag, Gad.”

“Three, then.”

Cullen pulled out two more pieces, looked to his companions, “Catch.” He tossed them. Cassandra instinctively ducked aside, and one caught Barris in the forehead.

“Hey!”

“Oh! Sorry!”

Gad hissed and stamped a claw, “Kindred!”

“Gad.”

There was a low rumbling sound and the creature tossed its head, raising up a little on its hind legs to stamp its fore feet into the ground, “Very well, most vexing mortal!”

Cullen smiled, “That’s better.”

Gad huffed in annoyance, “What would you know?”

“Tell me what you know about the young men being killed.”

“Seven princes for the seven thrones of stone. Gold are their crowns, silver tongues for the honey of their words.”

“Where are the other bodies?”

“I do not know.”

“Tell me what you know about the missing children.”

“Sweet little changelings. Such fair company they keep in green orchards and lush fields.”

“Where are they?”

“In the orchard.”

“There’s no orchards here, Ironside or otherwise, Gad.”

“And yet, there they are. What else would you know?”

Cullen made an irritated noise, “What is going on?”

“Changes.”

“What kind of changes?”

“Change is change, Kindred.”

“You’re being obtuse on purpose. What is changing?”

“The world.”

“You obstinate, farcical equine-headed fucker.”

Gad made the hissing noise again, more laughter. “You should have brought two bags.”

Cullen groaned in annoyance but pulled out the bag of candy, holding it out to the creature, “Maybe next time, you extortionist. Take this and get back in the water.”

Gad huffed in pleasure and daintily took the bag from the man’s hand, turned and started to wade back into the lake.

“Than—” Cassandra started to say, gave a muffled yelp as Cullen practically tackled her, slapping his hand over her mouth. Gad had frozen, was peering back at her slyly.

“ _Feisigh leat_!” Cullen snarled, glaring. Gad hissed again, tossing its head, and resumed walking.

Cullen did not remove his hand until the kelpie vanished beneath the surface. Cassandra huffed as he did so, “What was that for?!”

He rounded on her, “ _Never thank a faery. **Ever**. _ They will see you as owing a debt to them.” His glare was intense, burning, “Next time you’re around and I’m insulting one of the things, just shut up! I will not have you dragged into their games!” Cullen looked up at Barris, fixing him with the same glare, “And that goes for you, too!”

“Yes, ser!” popped out of Barris’ military trained mouth and he immediately winced, “ _Fucking—_ I mean, yeah, got it.”

Cullen’s glare had turned into a comical, startled look. It had been a few years since he’d been addressed as such.

“I’ve been in the reserves—I only got officially discharged six months ago,” Barris explained, cheeks darkening a little. “Medical stuff.”

“Lyrium related?”

“And a messed up knee.”

“What the hell are you doing being a detective, then.”

“Because he’s just like you and will only stop when he’s dead or worse,” Cassandra said flatly.

“Pot, kettle, black,” Barris dead-panned. He got a playful shove for his sassing.

“Oh, good, it’s not just me she beats into submission,” Cullen observed, and earned a shove that unfortunately hit the cut on his arm.

“ _Ow!_ ”

“ _Shit! Sorry!”_

“Okay, can we stop?” Barris exclaimed, “Maker, we’re all adults here and we’re still technically at a crime scene so let’s…you know, act professional.”

“We just saw Cullen buy off a kelpie with _candy_ and you want professionalism.”

“That candy got you your lead, so you’re welcome.”

“Then explain it because its answer made no sense.”

“I…I only know one answer—I think—and I don’t understand what it means in context. Seven princes on seven thrones of stone—that’s old magic something or other. Seven is a big number, like three and five. Odd numbers. But seven is the biggest.”

“Like seven years bad luck for breaking a mirror.”

“Something like that.”

“What about the rest?”

“Not sure. I need to talk to a story teller or a bard.”

“Do we know where one of those are?”

Cullen shifted uncomfortably; Barris and Cassandra exchanged glances and looked back at him. “Spill it,” Barris said.

“I know where to find both,” Cullen admitted, “But…”

“ _But_?” Cassandra prompted.

“But the last time I saw them they…sort of said…they would probably…kill me. If they saw me again. One gave me the scar,” he gestured vaguely to his mouth, the scar that cut through it. “He was uhm…a bit annoyed.”

Cassandra stared at him, entirely unamused. “Well. Then you had better think of a nice present to bring them when we go visit tomorrow. I’ll pick you up after lunch.”

“I can just meet you.”

“I. Will pick you up. After. Lunch.”

“Right. Good. Great. Looking forward to that.”

She scoffed and handed the keys to Barris, “Let’s drop him off and get home. It’s late and something tells me this is the last night of possible decent sleep any of us will get for a while.”

“I don’t like it when you say things like that, Seeker,” Barris said as they followed her back towards the car, “You’re always right.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot express how much. I. Love. Kelpies. They're one of my favorite mythological critters and really, I don't think people use them enough. So. KELPIE!
> 
> Remember kids, don't thank Faeries. Even if your parents tell you to, DON'T DO IT.


	5. Nunya Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which whiskey is drunk, Cassandra does a little snooping and two weirdos are met.

**I'm feelin' okay with my whiskey hangover**

 

Cullen kicked the door shut behind him with the same care that he usually did (which was precisely _none at all_ ) and turned the three locks, slid the chain into place. Then he rested the holly, hawthorne, and rose stem that dangled from strings nailed into the ceiling on top of the door jam. Finally, he rolled a salt and brick dust filled draft barrier into place along the bottom of the door.

His “paranoid” precautions along with all the cold iron laying around the old train station made the apartment a rather daunting place for anything that had aversions to that sort of thing. For everything else, he had a rather nasty piece of work for a revolver and an old cricket bat.

He hung his coat on the hanger by the door, toed out of his shoes as he walked over to the little bar near the small kitchen area and poured a generous glass of whiskey, tossing the thing in one go before refilling it and then dropping onto the couch with it and lighting a cigarette.

Not a great day, all things considered. Just as he suspected when Cassandra had come banging on the door.

Bruised across his chest and ribs from an Eldritch tentacle, cut on the arm from one of the fucker’s suction cups, his heart torn open by a few honest words from the faery woman he loved more than anyone on the face of the planet, and a fun conversation with a kelpie that would probably lead into something big going down in faery-land.

 _Fuck my life_.

At least he’d gotten to see Dor outside of a computer screen, to hug her and kiss her wild hair. To have dinner with her.

She’d gotten so big—several inches taller than when he’d last seen her. She was probably going to turn into an Amazon, like her mother. And Maker only knew how much more she’d grow in magical talent. She’d been barely a month old before odd things had started to happen around her; her favorite little toys would float in circles around her, and whenever she wanted to be held, she’d just sort of _be there_ by him or Pria. She hadn’t been a fussy baby, really, but he had never been able to figure out if that was better than a baby who just _popped up_ places.

Cullen shook his head and downed half the whiskey in his glass, trying to push his thoughts aside.

Dwelling always made it worse. _Remembering_ hurt.

He was saved by his phone buzzing; he pulled it out of his pocket and brushed his thumb over the screen, bringing it to life.

_Dorian: I have found those books you asked for._

_Cullen: Great. Overnight them, I’ll pay you back._

_Dorian: I have this thing called “transportation of inanimate objects”. It’s a nifty little spell that lets me instantly send inanimate objects to the place of my choosing, providing I have seen it._

_Dorian: Which I have._

_Dorian: Provided you’re still in that odd hermitage of yours._

_Cullen: I am and I’d rather you not. That sort of magic will get picked up by anything nearby that can smell it._

_Dorian: It is not an advanced bit of work._

_Cullen: Dorian. Overnight the damn things._

_Dorian: I’m doing the spell. You could use something to keep your mind occupied with what happened today._

_Cullen: Did she tell you?_

_Dorian: She didn’t have to tell me anything._

_Cullen: Lovely. So, I’m the only one blind-sided. The kitchen table is clear, send the books there._

_Dorian: Do you need to talk?_

_Cullen: Nope. Please and thank you on the books, have a good night._

_Dorian: Cullen_

Cullen tossed the phone onto the table and finished the whiskey, ground out his cigarette before getting up for another refill.

There was a soft flicker of purple light, the smell of ozone and jasmine, and a small stack of books was on the table when he looked, old leather-bound things with tarnished silver corners and spines, age-speckled pages and flaking gold titles. He scooped them into an arm and grabbed his whiskey, went back to the couch where he sat again with them in a pile at his feet.

He picked up the one on top, opened it, and began to read.

*-*-*-*-*

Furious pounding on the door startled him awake, and Cullen sat up suddenly, book falling from where it had been resting across his face, and he promptly fell off the couch with a yelp and a thud.

His head screamed in protest and he groaned.

“Cullen?” came Cassandra’s muffled voice. “Open up.”

He contemplated remaining where he was on the floor, hoped that maybe she would go away and leave him to die quietly by the couch surrounded by old tomes.

She hammered on the door again.

Yeah, she’d probably kick the damn thing open before he was allowed to die quietly.

With another groan he dragged himself to his feet and over to the door. “Okay, okay…” he protested, “Just a second. Damn.”

His fingers fumbled numbly with the chain and locks, slowing him for a moment. He kicked the draft block out of the way and opened the door. Her eyes locked onto his and swept him over appraisingly.

A disapproving frown creased her brow, pulled her lips thin. “Are you drunk?” she asked.

“Was. Now I’m hungover,” he said, coughing slightly when his voice rasped. “Barris?”

“At the station. I didn’t want him to be present in case I had to drag you out.”

“How kind of you,” he drawled sardonically, stepping away from the door. “Come in. Give me…fuck, I don’t know. Half an hour.”

“Take the time you need,” she shut the door behind her, looking around as he vanished through a doorway.

It was a smaller apartment, taking up most of the space of the second floor of the station. It had been offices, at one point. It was clean, but lived in with a sprawl of books on the floor and some dishes still in the sink that needed to be washed. The cushions on the couch were rumpled, his shoes carelessly on the floor between the door and the coffee table.

Cassandra noted the empty glass and the handful of cigarette butts in the ash tray and frowned again. At least elfroot-and-clove was pleasant smelling.

The walls were rather bare, save for a pair of framed certificates, a diploma, and three framed pictures that hung from silk ribbons. She walked over for a closer look; the first was a picture of Dor, smiling precociously, her hair the same wild tumble of curls like her father’s, the little braids knotted with beads, feathers, and a bird skull. She had a rather grumpy looking crow perched on her arm.

The second was a picture of a unit of men, all standing at attention in their camouflaged uniforms but smiling. A younger Cullen was towards the left of the picture, his face unmarred by the scar and lines from stress and pain. Before the Templar program had a chance to devour him and the other men who were fed to it.

The third was turned to face the wall. Cassandra hesitated, glancing over her shoulder before reaching up and carefully flipping it over. Cullen and Pria. Younger. Her hair was longer, pulled up and fastened behind her head with a large clip. Her arms were around his neck, and their foreheads touched as they stared into each other’s eyes adoringly, lips just a kiss apart. Cassandra turned it once more so it faced the wall.

_It was an easy rule and I was too much of a coward to follow it._

 She moved away from the pictures, busied herself with straightening the cushions on the couch and picked up the books, stacked them at the end of the coffee table. Hesitated before picking up the glass and walking to the kitchen to turn on the hot tap and fill the sink with soapy water.

Cullen walked out of his bedroom, hair still a bit damp but the curled otherwise clean and tamed back, just as she was setting the last dish into the drying rack and pulling the plug in the sink. He paused in fastening the last few buttons on his shirt, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I prefer to be busy.”

“…Thank you, then.”

“You’re welcome.”

He finished buttoning his shirt and quickly knotted his tie before sitting to pull his shoes on. She moved and sat on the couch near him, picking up a book to thumb through it curiously.

“These are what you were asking Dorian about?”

“Yes. A bit dull, honestly, but they’re a start.”

“How did they get here so quickly?”

“Transportation spell.”

“…One day I will stop being surprised. I’m a Seeker, I thought I had been trained for this sort of thing.”

“There’s the magical side you deal with, which is things that come to light and get talked about in the public. The things the Court admitted to. Then there’s my side, which is where all the monsters and scary things we were told didn’t actually exist hide. Where the real magic is.”

“How did you learn about them?”

Cullen grinned ruefully, “I was the silly mortal man in the story. I saw a pretty faery lady, lost any good sense I had, and _voila_ , here I am.”

“But how did you end up doing what you do? You’ve never told me.”

He shrugged, “There wasn’t anyone else to do it. I knew things, somehow someone who needed help found out about me, and once I helped them, they told someone else who needed help and it just…sort of grew from there. But then people started asking for things I wasn’t willing to do, so I started telling almost everyone no.”

“I don’t suppose you have any notes for me and Barris?”

He laughed and got to his feet, offered her a hand up, “A couple notebooks full, actually. Remind me later and I’ll dig them out.”

Cassandra smiled and accepted the hand up, “I shall. Are you ready? We can pick up coffee on the way back. Barris is staying firm about not drinking the station coffee.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No. It really is shit coffee.”

Cullen opened the door and bowed, “After you then, good Seeker.”

She rolled her eyes and gently flicked his head as she walked by him and out the door.

*-*-*-*-*

They stopped for coffee (flat white with a little vanilla, flat black with two sugars, and one flat black with a hideous amount of sugar), swung by the station to pick up Barris, and then they were on the way to the other side of town.

“So,” Barris said from his place in the back seat, offering a folder to Cullen, “Blackwall did a little rule bending and these are copies of the records we have for the missing men and kids. As long as they’re shredded whenever this is over, no harm. He’s not sure what else he can do, but he told the M.E. we need those autopsies pronto.”

Cullen took the folder, thumbed through it quickly, “I like this Blackwall.”

“He’s a good man,” Cassandra said, “Better officer. I keep telling him to try for detective but he won’t listen.”

“Why?”

“Says he’s too old.”

“Hm. Somedays I know the feeling.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Where am I going?” she asked.

Cullen closed the folder and picked up his coffee again to take a long sip. “The old storage lot,” he replied once he’d swallowed.

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement and her eyes met Barris in the rearview. He raised an eyebrow, “The abandoned one by the quays?”

Cullen grinned, “That one.”

“It’s not abandoned, is it,” Cassandra intoned flatly.

“Not even a little.”

*-*-*-*-*

The storage lot certainly _looked_ abandoned.

The lot stood near the quays, surrounded by an old chain-link fence that was stretched and bowed in places and topped with rusty barbed wire. The ground was dusty and overgrown with weeds, the rows of units sun-bleached and cracking, and the rooves were dusted almost white with the salty air blowing in from the sea. The main office building wasn’t looking much better, with duct-taped slapped over the windows in big x’s, the inside of them covered in yellowing newspaper, and the metal grates that at one time had rolled down to secure them at night rusted into a permanent position of half-open.

Barris and Cassandra followed Cullen as he ducked under the lop-sided front gate and they immediately felt a faint tingle against their skin, smelled a whiff of ozone.

“What are we doing here?” Cassandra asked.

Cullen was busily shuffling his hands through pockets in his long coat—more pockets than it seemingly had from a mere glance—his brow furrowed slightly. “I need to pick up a few things,” he replied, “And this is the safest place to keep anything.”

She raised a dubious eyebrow and swept a glance over the lot before looking at Barris, who looked back at her just as doubtfully. “Your journals?” she ventured after a moment and Cullen glanced up, blinked once and then nodded vaguely. “Yeah,” he said, “Since you reminded me—I think those are here.” He made a triumphant noise and pulled out a silvery flask. Cassandra scowled.

“It’s not for me,” he told her.

“Really.”

“It’s not! This is full of tequila.”

“And you’re carrying that around _because_ …?”

“Just…you’ll see.”

“Wouldn’t blame him if it _was_ his,” Barris muttered. Cassandra gave him a _look_ as they made it to the main office and Cullen pounded on the door with his fist. There was a minute of nothing and then the mail slot flapped open.

“Password,” said a heavily accented voice. Anderfels, maybe, Cassandra thought, or perhaps a very rough Free Marcher.

“…It’s me,” Cullen said.

“ _Password_.”

He sighed heavily, “Really?”

“ _Password!_ ”

Another heavy sigh. “Nunya.”

“Nunya _what_?”

“Nunya business,” Cullen ground out flatly. Cassandra groaned. “ _Really?_ ” Barris muttered in disbelief.

Apparently that was right, because the voice snickered in glee and the mail slot flapped shut and a moment later came a soft chime and Cullen opened the door, allowing the three of them into a murkily lit room that smelled of dust and was a cold as a crypt. The door swung shut behind them and the lights brightened just enough for them to get a sense of things and Cassandra and Barris were stunned to see one wall lined with screens and softly humming computer banks.

A round desk jutted out from the opposite wall, a door behind it and another door on the far side of the room, shrouded in almost offensively bright neon-rainbow beaded curtains and black fabric. There was a woman seated behind the desk, peering at them; she had pale-as-milk hair, paler skin, and eyes that were more ice than blue. Those eyes gave them all a quick once over before focusing on Cullen.

“Long time no see, Goldilocks,” she said, her voice the same as the one that had asked for the password. Cullen sighed for the third time in as many minutes. “Is it just the one of you?” he asked, and he almost sounded hopeful. She smiled, a set of long, pearly double-fangs glowing in the murky light, “Not for much longer. Jules should be back a-a-any minute with lunch.”

Cassandra and Barris got one look at those teeth and their hands flashed to their holsters—and found no familiar pistol to be had, only the soft brush of cold and a faint flutter of cloth to be heard. “Lookin’ for these?” the woman said, leaning against the desk and holding up their pistols in either hand.

“Explain!” Cassandra demanded, rounding on Cullen, “You never said _anything_ about vampires!”

“Rude.”

“Cautious,” Barris tossed back.

Cullen held up his hands a little defensively, “One vampire, and she’s not… _that_ bad.”

“Oi, hey! Fuck you, too, Goldilocks!”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.

“Look, she and her partner run this place,” Cullen said flatly, “That’s why this place is so safe. We won’t be here that long, she won’t bite anybody.”

“Don’t get too comfortable thinking that,” the vampire said, eyeing him waspishly. He held up the flask in reply and her eyes fastened onto it, her nose flaring.

“…Cheap shot, Goldilocks,” she growled, setting the pistols on the desk before taking two steps over and snatching it from his hand. She popped it open and took a swig.

“And we can’t have our guns because…?” Barris asked. She shrugged, “Rules. I didn’t make ‘em, I just enforce ‘em.”

“Great. So we’re just walking around a place oozing magic without any protection.”

“Nah, you can have pretty much any other kind of weapon you want, just no guns.”

“Gee. I left pretty much any other kind of weapon in my _other_ pants,” Barris intoned dryly. “Stupid of me, really.”

“I…have somethings lying around you can use,” Cullen replied, rubbing his neck, “It’s been awhile, I don’t remember exactly. Toni, may I have my key?”

The vampire lowered the flask from taking a swig, pointed at herself as she addressed the other two humans, “I’m Toni, by the way, since this jerk is being rude. And no, you can’t, because I don’t have it.”

Cullen went a little pale, “Oh, no.”

“Yep. Her turn. Sorry.”

Cullen sighed heavily, yet again, and slowly dragged his hands over his face. Cassandra and Barris exchanged a concerned, puzzled look.

And then the door banged open and another woman bounded in, her brown hair a wild mess of curls, her vivid green eyes almost glowing in the dim light as the door banged shut. “I bring… _tacos and guac_!” she announced, and then suddenly stiffened as she looked at the three humans. Then she smiled widely, predatorily, teeth gleaming and sharp as she saw Cullen. “Trash-baby! How ya been!?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Cullen muttered into his hands.

“ _Trash-baby?”_ Cassandra and Barris echoed, baffled.

“That’s my partner, Jules,” Toni said.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Toni and Jules. T & J are...old characters that VeraLynn and I created when we were significantly younger and they have stuck around and evolved over time. I don't think either of use writes much with them anymore but they showed up in this chapter and...well. They fit. They've never been quite on one side or the other when it comes to things and an old dusty storage lot seems exactly the sort of place they would hang out and heckle 'customers'. They're both a little mad and they are incredibly fun to write. I've missed them. Jules is used here with Vera's permission.
> 
> I'm also having a lot of fun writing Barris. We don't see him much in the game and I am incredibly fond of him. He's turning into a nice counter-balance of level-headed compared to the more blunt natures of both Cullen and Cassandra. Delrin "All the Chill" Barris. With a side of snark.


	6. Trash Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules sings a song. Cullen is over it. Barris and Cassandra get to explore a storage unit.
> 
> Spoiler alert: There's a dragon skull.

**I got a castle in Brooklyn (that's where I dwell)**

“ _Trash monkey! That funky monkey!”_

“Maker. Kill me now.”

“ _Trash monkey junkie! That funky monkey!”_

“I literally _only need my key from you_.”

“ _Trash, got the beat down more than real! Fuck with Trash Monkey here’s how ya feel—“_

“Please, stop.”

“ _Put your left jab down, your right hook up—”_

“This. This right here. _This_ is why I never come around.”

“ _Tilt your head back let’s finish this up—_ ”

“It was _two years ago_.”

“ _Got hit with a broke bottle then a full can, ya face got smashed with a cement dam—_ ”

“ _For fuck’s sake, woman, give Goldilocks his key and give me my damn tacos!_ ” Toni crowed, brandishing the tequila flask.

Cassandra stared at the new arrival in slight disgusted horror. Barris shook his head in vague amazement, “Did…did you _just_ come up with that or…?”

“Nah! I made that up ages ago!” Jules replied brightly, dumping the bag of tacos on top of the desk and yanking a large ring of keys from the thigh pocket of her pants, “Lessee, which key topper was it—oh _yeah_! The leopard printed one.” She unhooked a larger yellow key with black spots all over it and handed it to Cullen, who looked both thoroughly vexed and was bright red. He snatched it sharply from her hand, “ _Thank you_. Maker’s breath.”

“I missed you, too, Trash-baby.”

“I’m leaving,” he said, turning on his heel and walking hastily out, shoving the door open. Cassandra and Barris hurried after him, to the sound of raucous, wild cackling from the two women. They looked over their shoulders as the door shut, then back to the blond man, who was still a fetching shade of pink and glowering something fierce.

“Uhm,” Barris started.

“ _No_ ,” Cullen growled in reply.

“ _Yes,_ ” Cassandra insisted.

He let out a sharp, terse breath and turned right at the corner of the building and stalked down the first row of units. “It’s a nick-name,” he said tersely after a moment.

“Obviously. _Why_.”

His jaw clenched. “They fished me out of a dumpster a few years ago. After I got into a nasty scrape and got my tail thoroughly kicked and dumped into it,” he grumbled.

Barris snorted and quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. Cassandra, to her credit, did her best to keep a neutral expression although the corner of her mouth tugged upwards faintly. “Ah,” was all she said.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered.

He stopped at one with a faded blue door and peeling black numbers beside it marked it as “No. 7”. Barris idly scratched at the number for a second as Cullen unlocked a large, antique padlock. “Seven, huh?” he said.

Cullen glanced up, “Wasn’t my idea.”

The lock opened with a faint click and he unhooked it, pocketing it as he stood. “Before I open this…I need you two to promise that you’re not going to arrest me for some of the shit you might see in here,” he said.

“That will depend on what sort of shit it is,” Cassandra replied. Barris nodded, “I agree with the Seeker.”

“Great,” Cullen muttered, and hauled the door up.

All three coughed as sunlight poured into the gloomy unit beyond and dust clouds whorled out, along with the strong scent of herbs and the metallic-ozone scent of old magic. It made the hair on their arms prickle up, sent little shivers down the spine. As their eyes adjusted to the gloomy light, they saw large, hollow eye sockets staring at them, huge, sharp teeth leering from a serpentine maw. Barris’ jaw dropped. Cassandra stared in shock.

“You have a dragon skull.”

“I have a dragon skull,” Cullen nodded and stepped inside, “Come on in, pull the door down behind you.”

They did so, Cassandra reaching up to grab the door and pull it down; she was a little surprised at how easily it slid along the track, despite how long it had been since it had been used. The unit was plunged into darkness.

“Light,” Cullen said, and with a soft _whoosh_ , globes all along the ceiling lit up, bathing the unit (which seemed unusually larger than it should have been, looking from the outside) in comfortable light. Aside from the dragon skull, there were rows of wire racks and shelves, lined with stacks of old books and glass jars filled with glittering powders and swirling liquids. A few contained wet specimens of… _things_ that Barris was pretty sure weren’t even mentioned in training.

Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, yellow and papery with age, and the walls had weapons of every sort mounted, some on plaques labelled with a skull and cross-bones. Chests were pushed against the wall, along with short book cases and armor stands.

Cassandra eyed everything before looking back at Cullen, “Three busy years, I see.”

He shrugged, “Some of this stuff was payment, some things were given to me for safe keeping and other stuff in here is too dangerous to let out into the world again. The authorities don’t quite have the muscle to be able to properly lock them up and guard them yet.”

“You _could_ show us how to.”

He shook his head, “Better they stay here. No one can use them.”

“Even you?”

He raised an eyebrow and began winding his way through the rows of racks and shelves, “You really think those two in the office would let me in here if they smelled something odd?”

“Would they even know?” Barris asked as they followed after him, taking care not to touch anything even if it was rather tempting.

“They’d know.”

They were led towards a back corner that had more chests and stands, another small book shelf. Cullen crouched by it, eyeing spines before pulling three from their pile, two soft, leather-bound volumes and one spiral bound blue notebook that was decorated with cartoony lions. He handed all three to Cassandra and, seeing the amused question on her face, shrugged, “It was a present from Dor.”

“Aw, hey, they’re glittery!” Barris exclaimed, leaning in to examine the cover.

“Glitter makes everything prettier, apparently. Anyway. These three will give you…the crash course,” Cullen said, opening a chest and finding an old canvas satchel to hand to the woman. “Don’t lose them. Don’t talk about them around other people. And definitely don’t let other people read them.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Even though the knowledge in these could possibly be of great benefit?”

“Yes. Right now, most faery-kind don’t even know those things exist. If they did, they would be _pissed_ with what’s in those. Pissed enough to kill whoever has them and has read them. Faeries don’t like their secrets being told, and those notebooks tell _many_. So…read them at your own risk.”

“I am warned,” she replied evenly as she carefully tucked them into the satchel and draped it over her chest. “And no one will get them from me. Barris, you do not have to read these if you do not wish to.”

“Oh, I think it’s a _little_ late for me to decide that,” he replied grimly. “I’m in it now. Better I know.”

“Much better,” Cullen agreed, and then opened up several display cases, “You’ll need some equipment, too.”

In the next few minutes, they were handed things that were _definitely_ contraband, on both sides of the line—silvery plated brass knuckles carved with strange runes and glyphs and with little iron spikes on the knuckles; medieval looking daggers that strapped along their thighs with dark blades and smooth-worn wooden grips; leather bandoliers with loops holding small vials of rocky salt and a fine red powder, others with dried leaves and flower buds; a second dagger, thinner and more delicate than the first, with a gleaming silver blade and a wire wrapped hilt that fit in the small of their backs.

“Are we going to see someone or are we going to war?” Cassandra asked dryly as Cullen passed her and Barris two small copper ear cuffs.

“Probably both,” Cullen replied, “Put those on. They’ll translate speech.”

“You mean I don’t have to keep taking those awful classes?” Barris perked up as he fitted the cuff around his ear, smiled delightedly when Cullen shook his head. “I’m never giving this back.”

Cullen chuckled and rifled through the case, tucking the odd small thing into his pockets. “Wasn’t planning on asking for it back. I want to give you two one last…damn.” He stepped away, rubbing the back of his neck as he frowned, “I don’t think I have anymore.”

“Can we look elsewhere for something for you?” Cassandra offered, “Perhaps you misplaced it?”

“No. They would definitely be in this case. It’s alright, I can…” he trailed off, hesitating as he pulled his phone from his pocket, a pained expression flickering over his face.

Cassandra gently set her hand on his arm, squeezed lightly in support. “Keep it business,” she suggested.

“Right,” Cullen snorted with a brittle smile, “Business.” He brought the screen to life and tapped in a number, stepped away as the line began to ring.

It picked up a moment later. “Hello, Cullen.”

He closed his eyes against the pang that stabbed through his chest at Pria’s voice. _I hate you_ , it echoed over and over in his head. “Hello, Pria,” he replied, a little quietly. “I apologize for bothering you, but I was hoping you had two seeing stones I could have. Or trade for.”

“Seeing stones?” she repeated, curiously, “Why do you need those?”

“For Barris and Cassandra.”

“Where are you taking them that they _need_ seeing stones?”

“…The Market.”

“ _Vishante kaffas!_ ” he winced at the loud exclamation, “I hope you’ve given them _something_ to defend themselves with? There’s no way they’ll be allowed guns.”

“I’m not a complete idiot, they have iron and silver and salt. But stones will still do them more good.”

She sighed heavily, sharply through her nose, “Alright. I believe I have two left—you’re at your unit? I’ll bring them to you.”

He smiled slightly. She might hate him and never want to be with him again, but at least she was still _there_ when he needed her help. “Thank you, Pria. What do I owe you?”

“You really need to stop thanking me for things. I’m a faery, you know better.”

“Yes. Well. I figure I’m already in more debt to you than I could possibly pay off, so it won’t hurt. What do I owe you?”

_You gave me a happy life and a daughter, I couldn’t pay that back in ten lifetimes._

There was a long pause, one where he could almost see her face, knew the way her brow was furrowing, how her fingertips were pressing against her chin as she thought. “You owe me nothing, Cullen,” she said finally. “Consider them gifts. No strings attached.”

“ _Maker’s breath,_ Pria, for _two_ —”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she cut in and then hung up, leaving him to stare at the phone, wide-eyed. He was still surprised by the faery woman, and it always surprised him that he was surprised.

He also found it odd that she would give something like two seeing stones so freely, particularly to someone she hated. Those things were _valuable_ , how could she not want something as payment?

“Is everything alright?” Cassandra asked.

He nodded. “Yes. She just—Pria will be coming in a few minutes with one last thing for you two. Put them on and _do not ever take them off_.”

“This is all _very_ comforting,” Barris noted drolly, “What is this Market?”

“You’ve read ‘The Goblin Market’? The poem?”

“No.”

“I have,” Cassandra said, sort of staring at him flatly, “Let me guess. It’s real, and that’s where we’re headed.”

“Pretty much,” Cullen confirmed.

“Maker. How much have we not been told?”

“Knowing the Twilight Court, assume that you have been told pretty much _nothing_.”

*-*-*-*

Pria was, as Dorian called it, ‘solar-charging’ in a sunbeam that poured in through one of the big bay windows in the library. She was stretched out comfortably on the window seat, a book floating above her head, pages turning with a flick of her hand as she read. Nearby, Dor sprawled on the floor nearby in a mess of yarn, beads, and crochet hooks—she was attempting to teach herself with the help of a book, and having limited success because it was significantly more fun to braid and knot the yarn into long garlands. Currently, she was winding her latest creation around Dorian’s staff.

Both jumped slightly as Pria’s phone went off and she sat up, looking around. “Dor, did you see where I put that thing?” she asked. Her daughter pointed to the table near the couch and Pria smiled, “Thank you, da’vhenan.”

“Welcome!”

The elf rolled to her feet easily and crossed to the table in three long steps, scooping the phone up and hesitating when she saw _Cullen_ lighting up the screen and a picture of the man’s smiling face. Her stomach did a little giddy-nervous flip. Answering could lead to more pain for both of them. More awkward conversations, unsaid things being blurted in a rush. But on the other hand…

She hit the green symbol and lifted it to her ear, “Hello, Cullen.”

 _Not answering_ had never been an option. Not when it came to him. She would always answer for him because she had _chosen_ this mortal, and there was no take back on that.

“Hello, Pria,” came his reply, his voice a little subdued, soft. “I apologize for bothering you, but I was hoping you had two seeing stones I could have. Or trade for.”

Her brow furrowed. What was he up to that he needed that sort of thing for? “Seeing stones? Why do you need those?”

“For Barris and Cassandra.”

Ah, the two mortals working on the case that was starting to reek of old faery magic. She wasn’t sure _what_ sort of magic, but she could _feel_ something happening on that side, sensed that there was a great _change_ coming.

“Where are you taking them that they _need_ seeing stones?”

There was a slight hesitation on his end. “The Market,” he finally muttered.

Her eyes widened in alarm. “ _Vishante kaffas!_ ” Mortals, with few exceptions, tended to not fare well in that place. It was too full of faery, too full of _other_ creatures and things. Too full of strange magic and stranger events. Things that liked the taste of mortal flesh and fear. They would need something a little more than seeing stones if they were going there. “I hope you’ve given them _something_ to defend themselves with? There’s no way they’ll be allowed guns.”

Guns stank of Ironside and blood. That attracted attention. They were also powerful and lethal and faery tended to dislike things like that which gave humans such an edge.

“I’m not a complete idiot, they have iron and silver and salt,” he retorted a little gruffly, “But stones will do them more good.”

Pria felt her shoulders relax faintly, a slight, affectionate smile tugging at her mouth. Of course he had made sure they would be as safe as he could make them. Cullen was a protector, a warrior, a noble idiot—it was part of the reason she had felt called to him in the first place.

She frowned when she felt the butterflies in her stomach and quickly pushed that feeling aside, settled back on finding the sliver of annoyance that he was, _again_ , about to jump into something foolish (conveniently forgetting that she did the same thing rather regularly) and let out a heavy, sharp sigh through her nose. “Alright. I believe I have two left—you’re at your unit? I’ll bring them to you.”

She heard the smile in his voice, the way it lightened it. “Thank you, Pria. What do I owe you?”

 _You beautiful idiot._ “You really need to stop thanking me for things. I’m a faery, you know better.” _You should, anyway, I think you know all that you do because of me._

“Yes. Well. I figure I’m already in more debt to you than I could possibly pay off, so it won’t hurt. What do I owe you?”

Well, now, just what did _that_ mean? What debt? She had never claimed any debt over him! Was he talking about Dor? Did he feel he was indebted because they had happened to have a child together? Because they had been together for nearly twelve years? _What debt did that infuriating mortal mean_?

“You owe me nothing, Cullen,” she said, and meant every word. She would never claim a debt over him, never claim she was owed for _anything_. She wasn’t. She had been with him by choice, was happy to have Dor, to have her memories of _them_ , even if they caused her pain. “Consider them gifts. No strings attached.”

How very _un-faery_ of her. And he knew it, too. “ _Maker’s breath,_ Pria, for _two_ —”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she cut in and then hung up, pocketing the phone and turning to her daughter. “Dor, go tell Dorian that you and I are going to meet your father at his storage unit. We might be gone for a little while.”

Dor perked up and immediately dropped her project to jump to her feet and dash from the room, smiling brightly. She watched the child go, felt a guilty pang yet again at the beaming expression on the girl’s face.

She wished she could forgive as easily as mortals could. She wished, more than anything, that she wasn’t so _scared_ of what she still felt for Cullen Rutherford.

*-*-*-*

The three humans turned as a bare section of wall opened and a smiling, cheerful Dor bounded out, followed by a more solemnly amused Pria. Cullen noticed the elf-woman was wearing her old pauldrons, bedecked with gray and black feathers over the shoulders and crystals hanging from one side, and wondered what had prompted her to dig it out. Then Dor was barreling into him, throwing her arms around his waist with all the force of her nearly ten-year old strength and he had to plant his weight to prevent himself from falling over.

“Da!” she chirped happily.

He smiled widely and tousled her wild hair, lifted her up to return the hug tightly. A puff of bright green yarn fuzz was stuck in her hair and he carefully pulled it out, “What have you been up to?”

“Crocheting!”

“Or attempting to,” Pria said teasingly, “It’s much more fun to make garlands and decorate Dorian’s staff.”

“Abi adores it, he said so!”

Cullen took another look at the bright green bit of fuzz he held and raised an eyebrow. Hardly the sort of color Dorian would normally go for; he suspected that the sorcerer was more delighted by the thought and effort the girl had put in to making something for him than by the color itself. The look he exchanged with Pria confirmed that suspicion.

“Hi, Barris! Hi, Cassandra! I made you things, too!” Dor said, prompting him to set her on her feet so she could skip over and greet them. Her mother stepped in as she did so, offering him a small silk-wrapped bundle.

“Two seeing stones,” she said, “They’re already prepared and strung.”

He took it and undid the silk wrapping to eye the stones. They were two smooth, round river stones, one a soft sort of ivory with green streaks and the other a gray flecked with sparkling mica. A natural hole had been eroded through the center of each, and runes and glyphs were painted on either side of them. A length of leather cord had been wrapped around them, fastening them into somewhat crude necklaces.

He felt his palm prickle with the magic that the stones radiated, felt the one he wore around his neck pulse faintly in reaction to the nearness of these two. They had been pulled from the same river, once upon a time, three siblings recognizing one another after years apart.

“Thank you, again, Pria. Really. I know these are… _incredibly_ hard to come by,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she agreed, “But you understand how precious they are, and you wouldn’t ask for them needlessly. Why are you going to the Market?”

He grimaced and looked up at her, “We have a lead we’re following up. But we need a storyteller or a bard.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression flat. “Well. I’m glad that Dorian went ahead of us, then. He’ll be able to sweeten Hal’s temper before you get there.”

“It’s not Hal I’m worried about,” Cullen murmured, only half joking, “It’s _Mahaal_. He would make it a lingering sort of dying and I’m not a fan.”

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest and he had to fight to not let his eyes drop to her breasts. “I guess I’ll be coming with you, then,” she decided, “To make sure you don’t get yourself or those two murdered horrifically.”

“ _Thanks_. I’m touched,” he groused. “Not like I haven’t been there before or anything.”

“Didn’t you end up tossed in a dumpster after last time? And earn a cute nickname? There was a song in the works last I heard.”

“You know, I think, at this precise second, I’d prefer us to _not_ be talking.”

A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes dancing playfully, but she didn’t say anything. A moment of pleasure from her expression was quickly replaced with confusion; _I hate you_ echoed in his mind again and he shook his head slightly, stepped away to walk over to Barris and Cassandra. He was fairly certain that someone who _hated_ him ought not to be teasing him…right? That was what the Pria who had loved him would have done.

The Pria who hated him ought to just let him deal with the consequences of his own decisions, shouldn’t she?

“Here,” he said, holding the stones out to his two companions, “Choose one, put it on. Remember— _never take them off_.”

“What happens if we do?” Barris asked, selecting the white-and-green stone and slipping it over his head, tucking it under his shirt after. He sported a braid of bright green-and-yellow yarn around his wrist now, Cullen noted. It had a large bead shaped like a smiley face on one side.

“Nasty beasties will be able to smell you,” Dor said. “Especially after the Market. Oh! And if you look through them, you can see things that are hidden!”

“Hence ‘seeing stones’,” Cassandra noted, examining her gray stone with interest before slipping it over her own head. She too, tucked it under her shirt, got an odd look on her face, “Should it…feel odd?” She also had a braid of offensively yellow-and-green yard around her wrist. A giant red-plastic heart sat in the middle of it.

“Pulsing?” Cullen asked, “It’s reacting to mine and Barris’. They were pulled from the same river. They do that, it’s harmless.”

“Do you have more written on them?” Cassandra asked, setting her hand on her satchel. Cullen made a slight hissing noise and a slashing motion over his throat but Pria had already turned sharply and was staring at them.

“ _What_?” she growled, quietly, and Cullen winced. Dor pursed her lips, whistling quietly, “O-oh, Da, I think you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, darling, that sort of thing happens a lot with your mother, lately,” he muttered back.

“ _Cullen_ ,” Pria snapped, “You _didn’t_ —”

“To the Market we go!” he interrupted, taking Dor’s hand and starting for the front of the unit. “Don’t eat or drink anything offered to you and _try_ not to start any fights.”

“Da will probably manage just fine by himself!”

“Thank you, Dor,” he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..........
> 
> I have no words of explanation for that song other than I thought it was really damn funny and an accurate representation of the sort of affection Jules displays towards people she fishes out of dumpsters. It has resulted in "Brass Monkey" being stuck in my head in a perpetual loop and it's slowly driving me mad. Personal lesson learned: if it makes me giggle for more than fifteen seconds, I probably shouldn't do it. But I did.
> 
> Chapter lesson: when preparing to go to market, LOCK AND LOAD UP. Also, never give a nine year old willy-nilly access to yarn.
> 
> Edit 12/30/17: Heya, folks, your friendly author here. I just wanted to say I'm sorry about dragging with the next chapter. I'm...well, I'm going through some bad headspace and crap and it's making all the things hard to do.
> 
> This work is not abandoned, though, or on hiatus. It'll just be slow go for awhile, I think. Thanks in advance for your patience.
> 
> Remember, kids, don't thank faeries.


	7. To Market, To Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes arrive at the market. Sights are seen. Persons met. Dor does a little shopping and uses her father's preferred currency.

**Dark Lady laughed and lit the candles one by one**

 

“Go no further!”

“For the path you take will _lead to certain destruction!”_

_“Beware. BEWARE!”_

_“Soon! It will be TOO. LATE.”_

“Oh, Andraste’s—! Will you two _fuck off_?” Barris said in exasperation, looking at Toni and Jules, who immediately stopped playing with the PA system in the main office and looked at one another, then at him.

“I _like_ this one,” Toni commented as Cullen handed his key back to Jules. “Me too,” Jules agreed, “He knows bullshit when he hears it.”

“Well, I mean, we were bullshitting, yeah, but what we were saying…”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. What we’re saying is totally true. You _really_ don’t actually want to go the Market.”

“We have little choice,” Cassandra said crisply. “We have a lead and we need information for that lead.”

They grimaced but shrugged. “Alright, you’re adults,” Toni agreed, gesturing to the door behind the desk. “You lot be careful.”

“We will,” Cullen replied.

The pair glanced at one another again and looked at the rest of the group, “Don’t let him get tossed in any more dumpsters.”

Dor giggled at the put-upon sigh that escaped Cullen.

“Jules, the kid needs candy.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jules pulled a staggeringly large jar from under the desk and pulled the lid off; Dor smiled widely and spent a moment eyeing the assortment of lollipops and candy necklaces before selecting a red one.

“Aw, take a couple,” Toni encouraged. Dor looked at her parents, who exchanged a brief, conversational glance. “Go on,” Pria said. Dor smiled again and snagged two handfuls of necklaces and lollipops, stuffing them into her hoodie pocket, “Thank you!”

“Sure thing, Mini-Goldilocks.”

“Baby Trash-baby.”

“Again,” Cullen drawled, opening the door and waving the rest of the group through, “ _This_ is why I never ‘just stop by’.”

“But you miss us. Bye, kids!” Toni waved. “Have fun storming the castle!” Jules added.

“You think it’ll work?”

“Ah, it’ll take a miracle.”

“Buh-bye!”

“Mad hatters,” Cullen muttered, yanking the door shut behind him.

“Are they always like that?” Cassandra asked almost hesitantly, “They seem…”

“Unbalanced? Unstable? Wildly unpredictable and dangerous?” Pria murmured, “They are. Which is why they guard this place. Even most of the Court respects what they _might_ do to someone who breaks the rules, here.”

“Where is ‘here,’ exactly?” Barris said, turning to follow Cullen as he led them down the narrow hall that the door had put them in. “Are we still on our side of the line? It feels…different.”

“Technically this place is a crossroads,” Cullen replied, “We’re closer to Ironside right now, but this lot is more in-between. That’s why it feels…hm.”

“Crawly,” Cassandra suggested, “My skin feels crawly.”

“They’re more sensitive than most,” Pria noted with a slight smile, “You might be better off in the Market than I thought.”

“I’m not sure that I find that complimentary,” Cassandra replied wryly. The answering smile she got was perhaps a little more savage than necessary.

They stopped at the end of the hall, where it was a dead end. Cullen nodded towards it, “Cass, Barris, one of you want to do the honors?”

“I’ll give it a go,” Barris stepped forward and glanced at Dor with a grin, “Knock three times, right?”

The girl grinned, “And if that doesn’t work, you kick it in!”

“The Seeker is a little more skilled at that then I am,” he chuckled, earning a dismissive scoff from the woman as he raised his hand and knocked three times on the wall.

Nothing happened for a long moment, and then with a rumble and a groan, the wall cracked and shivered apart, and a cloud of sound and appetizing smells billowed around them along with red-orange, warm light.

“Well,” Pria said, stepping forward, “Welcome to the Goblin Market.”

*-*-*-*

“Come buy, come buy!”

“Apples and quinces! Lemons and Oranges! Plump unpeck’d cherries! Melons and raspberries!”

“Crab-apples, dewberries! Pine-apples, blackberries! Apricots!”

“Strawberries! In ripe together in summer weather!”

“Come buy, come buy!”

The Goblin Market was a living, breathing mass of all manner of beings and creatures the likes of which Cassandra and Barris had hardly _heard_ of in their training.

Massive, brawny ogres and trolls trundled by in leathers with sharp, yellow tusks and gold-and-gem studded horns; their hair was thick, ropey braids of coarse black-brown to grey. Delicate, gossamer winged and green-skinned pixies danced and flittered along, laughter like silvery bells and their dark eyes inky, bottomless pools that drew light in. Tall, angular, achingly-beautiful men and women strolled along, arm-in-arm while wearing fine coats of silk and velvet that were decorated with autumn leaves and had ragged, flapping hems and necklines.

Shimmering wisps flickered about, dancing through the air with bobbing balls of colorful light, leaving pearly, smoky trails behind them that were chased by a rainbow of tiny, fluttering dragons who chirped and whistled musical tunes.

Capricious little goblins and kobolds capered here and there between legs and stalls, clever fingers dipping into purses and snatching wares from table tops. They vanished with impish cackles and puffs of glittering smoke when caught.

Lines of laundry hung from windows and balconies that climbed up the walls and alleys that made the place up, flapping in the wind, and great glass and crystal globes sat amongst grinding, steaming gears, shimmering with light or filled with clean, clear water. Breathtakingly colorful, alien mer-folk swam in lazy circles, webbed fingers pressing against glass sides, scales flickering and gleaming.

Lichen and glistening moss grew along walls, hundreds of eyes dotting the fronds that blinked open and peered at passerby before quickly retreating with whisper-soft sighs when brushed against. Trees and vines muscled through brick and mortar, twining through the buildings and sprouting from them, dew gleaming from green leaves and branches hanging low with large, temptingly purple and silver fruit. Large, heavily scented flowers bloomed, shimmering in shades of blue and teal and orange and almost painful magenta. Dor giggled as she brushed against one and gold-and-silver pollen fell into her hair and on her shoulders, glittering.

There were a thousand different sorts of food stalls and just as many selling odd little tidbits and baubles. Several boasted being able to sell bottled luck and confidence, powdered eloquence and strength. Strange fruit glistened with morning dew and starlight and the smell of roasting meat and baking bread was so strong that they found their mouths watering and their bellies growling.

“Maker,” Barris breathed, wide-eyed and awe-struck. Cassandra was looking around in astonished wonder. “This…this is _amazing_ ,” she admitted quietly, and Cullen grinned.

“Yeah. They do that. Don’t let it draw you in, though.”

“Of course not. I’m not a fool who gives in to temptations.”

“I’m a little sorry we weren’t introduced sooner,” Pria said.

“I think that was a compliment,” Cassandra muttered. Dor smiled encouragingly, “It was. If Mamae didn’t like you, you’d know it.”

“Pointedly,” Cullen added lowly before raising his voice slightly, “We’re headed to the tavern. Bit of a walk, remember, don’t accept food or drink from anyone.”

“We know,” Barris and Cassandra intoned flatly, and fell into step with him as he began to walk along the crowded thoroughfares. Pria leaned in a bit, keeping one eye on Dor as the child flitted to and fro, looking at stalls they passed. “That isn’t completely accurate,” she said, “If you find yourself hungry or thirsty, tell me or Dor. We can find you something that won’t bind you.”

“Bind us?” Cassandra’s brow furrowed for a moment before her face lit in understanding, “Like the poem. The girl eats the fruit and she desires nothing else but more of it.”

“Exactly like. Mortal poets and story-tellers are often the closest to faery. It’s a pity their relevance has been dismissed.”

“I’m starting to see that.”

“Dor, come on, darling,” Cullen said, turning slightly to catch the girl’s attention.

Dor, however, was much more preoccupied with peering at the contents of a stall that was tucked away in a corner, almost as if it had been squeezed between the two on either side of it. A dark doorway was behind it, partially hidden by gauzy curtains and string upon string of glittering beads and milk-pale bones.

The table of the stall held swaths of shimmering fabrics and clever little devices that moved on their own, bronze gears turning quietly. Oddly shaped glass bottles and crystal phials held even stranger liquids and powders, all colored beautifully and swirling in their containers. Some were tiny and strung on silk thread or gold-and-jeweled chains. Others were large, the size of a man’s fist, and sat in wooden stands or burbled softly over candle-less flames that hovered in the air. One was sitting just above a corner of the stall, floating in the air and spinning around on an unseen axis.

“Well, all of those look pretty and very suspicious,” he sighed wryly. “Half a moment while I get the errant offspring.”

“Go with him,” Cassandra told Barris as Cullen started after the girl. He glanced at her, eyebrow raised questioningly; she tilted her head slightly and gave him a pointed look. He nodded, “Right. Yeah, just in case, gotcha.”

She waited until Barris was nearing Cullen and the stall before turning slightly to look at the elf standing beside her and found that Pria was eyeing her warily. “I take it you have something to say to me,” she said, “About Cullen.”

Cassandra blinked once, momentarily thrown off balance before she found herself again, “Yes.”

“Go on, then.”

“I think he deserves another chance. That you _both_ deserve another chance.”

Pria clucked her tongue and looked away, towards the stall where the two men and Dor now stood. “ _That_ is none of your business, Seeker.”

She shifted her weight a little and tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket, “I disagree. Cullen is my friend—he has done so well, these last three years, considering where he _was_. But he is not really happy—I knew that, but now I’ve seen him with Dor. With _you_. There is a light in him that comes on when he is with you and your daughter.”

“There are things you do not understand about the situation, Cassandra.”

“I do not need to understand the intricacies. I know that my friend is in pain and is miserable. That your leaving caused that pain; you were right to take Dor, then. He was not himself. But this is _now_ , and now I see a good man who has made so many changes for the better, who has found himself again, and who is without his family. All he wants is you and Dor to be a part of his life, and he deserves that. You deserve someone who worships the ground you walk like he does. And Dor deserves to have her father there to tuck her in at night.”

Cassandra watched Pria as the faery tilted her head faintly, eyeing her from glinting, too deep eyes. A chill went down her back as, for a moment, she thought she saw the ghostly outline of a large crow skull flickering over Pria’s face and head, crowned with proud antlers and the feathers on her shoulders inky blue-black and capping a flowing cloak of angry gray storm clouds with a hem that was the white foam of a stormy sea. Then that image was gone and it was just the Knight-Enchanter, staring at her with thoughtfully pursed lips.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked.

Cassandra scowled, “I care because he is my _friend_ , as I have said. He was there for me when—” Her throat knotted up suddenly and her eyes prickled with tears and she blinked several times to fight them back, clearing her throat determinedly, “When my brother passed. Cullen was there and stood with me through it. It is only right that I am here for him, now.”

“And you would vouch for him. That he is not the same man the Templars tried to make him. That the lyrium is gone. That he is _himself_.”

“I would.”

“Would you stake your life on it?”

The Seeker wasn’t sure she liked the sly gleam that crept briefly into the faery’s eyes, the predatory curl of her lips that flashed a long canine before disappearing in an instant. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled faintly, a niggling at the back of her mind whispering _danger!_ Cassandra brushed that all aside and squared her shoulders, looked the elf square in the eye, “I would.”

It was baffling to her why Pria smiled softly and huffed a quiet laugh. She looked away from her, back towards the stall, again, and loosely crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Dor hop excitedly and point, her small hand clutching tightly at the edge of Cullen’s coat. “He named her for you, you know,” she said, and Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Cullen. He insisted on naming Dor for you. Adorah Ariel Cassandra Lavellan-Rutherford. He said that if something ever happened to him and we needed anything Ironside, I was to go to you. That you could be trusted with anything.”

A blush crept over Cassandra’s face, heating her ears.

“He chose well, naming her after you. You are steel and dragon-fire,” Pria looked back at her, her smile widening at the rosy tint on the woman’s cheeks. “And you’re adorable. I used to get a little jealous when he spoke of you—He was spending time with a beautiful, capable woman and he wasn’t _sharing_ her attention? How rude.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Cassandra sputtered, turning redder. “It was never like that!”

“I know. Bit of a pity, really.”

“You’re toying with me.”

“Maybe! But you are beautiful and capable, and I am glad that Cullen has you for a friend,” she turned and began to walk towards the stall, paused and looked back at her. “I will…consider what you have said, Cassandra. You are not wrong—about Dor deserving her father, at the least.”

Cassandra frowned a little but moved and fell into step with her as Pria resumed her walking. “That is better than nothing, I suppose,” she replied. “Tha—ah. My appreciation.”

Pria laughed in genuine amusement and smiled, “Good catch.”

*-*-*-*

“Well, all of those look pretty and very suspicious,” Cullen sighed wryly. “Half a moment while I get the errant offspring.”

With that, he walked over towards the stall in a lazy, meandering sort of way. He could see Dor, so he could see she wasn’t in immediate danger—she knew better than to go poking at whatever was in those glass shapes. He vaguely heard Cassandra tell Barris to come after him and found that mildly suspicious.

He vaguely wondered if leaving Cassandra and Pria alone together was wise, and then dismissed the thought with a shrug. If the two decided to have it out, it would be less wise to get in the middle of them.

“What have you found, little magpie?” he asked teasingly as he came nearer his daughter, who looked up and grinned in that big, impishly beaming way she had that was exactly like her mother. _That damn smile_.

It would be the death of him, one day, he was sure of it.

“Look, Da! Powdered beetle wings!” she said, pointing to a small jar of iridescent green. “Mamae says that you can spin it with spider silk and make pretty clothes out of it!”

“Yeah? You sure you don’t turn into a beetle?”

“ _Da_ , you have to be a _shapeshifter_ to do that.”

“Right, silly of me,” he grinned and gently ruffled her hair, chuckled at the playful, tiny growl that came his way before he smoothed the wild curls affectionately. “Come on, Dor, we have to get to the tavern.”

“Anything interesting?” Barris asked as he came to a stop by them.

“Powdered beetle wings!”

“Oh, I know that color. Me and my brothers used to catch those in the yard—they’d nip the hell out of you if you weren’t careful.”

“Da, can I have a pet beetle?”

“Hard no on that, I know how big the ‘pet beetles’ get on this side.”

Barris eyed him curiously and Cullen grimaced. “About eight inches long, and they usually have nasty attitudes.”

“That’s a big bug,” Barris muttered with a slight shudder.

Dor tugged at the edge of his coat, drawing his attention back to her and to what she was pointing at, hopping in place. “Da, what’s that?”

A tiny, tear-shaped glass bottle was resting delicately on a stand of crushed velvet, a bit of green beach glass crowning the stopper and silvery wire twisted around the neck and attaching it to a loop of braided twine, dotted with tiny pearls and bits of shell. A single drop of liquid nestled in the bottom of the vial, throwing off a tiny rainbow onto the velvet.

Cullen’s brow furrowed and he leaned over a bit to get a closer look. “I don’t really know, light of my life,” he replied after a moment. “Probably a potion of some sort.”

He heard Barris take in a short, sharp breath of surprise and looked up to find that there was a woman standing on the other side of the table, watching him with amusement. He felt a tug at the back of his eyes, a tingling in his fingertips and on the tip of his nose as he breathed in the smell of ozone, damp earth and moss, and the astringent smell of herbs.

Her skin was a velvet jet black, her colorful, hue-shifting hair pinned lazily up at the back of her head, and eight fuzzy spider legs sprouted from her back, four of them idly tapping claws gently on the table top. Citrine-yellow eyes looked at him and through him, as deep as an old forest, or a yawning cave that no one quite braved venturing into. He couldn’t see himself reflected in those eyes, and that meant she was a creature of very _old_ magic.

His hand sought Dor’s and took hold of it tightly.

“Lady,” he greeted quietly, not quite keeping her gaze.

“Dog lord,” she replied with an amused snort, and a glance at Barris, “Two. Dog lords.”

“Uh?” Barris grunted in question, but she had already looked to Dor, and smiled warmly.

“That,” she said, gently setting her fingertips on the stand, “Is a mermaid’s tear. Do you know how you make the merfolk cry?”

Dor’s eyes widened in wonder, her mouth dropping open faintly and she slowly shook her head. The woman leaned down, crooking a finger at her and whispering conspiratorially as the girl leaned in, “Merfolk do not cry when they are sad. Their hearts are much too cold and fickle for that. To cry, a merperson must be exceedingly, overwhelmingly, and desperately happy. Do you know what makes a merperson exceedingly, overwhelmingly, and desperately happy?”

Dor shook her head again, “Uh-uh.”

“Neither do I.”

The girl blinked, staring at the woman for a moment before a smile snuck onto her face and she laughed. The woman chuckled and gave the braid beside Dor’s ear a gentle, playful tug before straightening.

Barris cocked his head as he looked at the vial, “How do you know you have an actual tear, then?”

“Because the source of this tear is very reliable.”

He didn’t look convinced.

Cullen still had a firm hold of Dor’s hand and gave it a gentle tug as he took a half step back. “Say goodbye to her ladyship, Dor,” he bade quietly, “We have to go.” She pouted up at him, “Da, I want to get the mermaid tear—it’s pretty. And Abi says he’s always wanted to see one!”

“Dor, I don’t think we could find enough gold in the world to be able to afford that necklace.”

“Why?”

“Merfolk practically never cry, Adorah,” the woman said, “A single tear is very rare, and very precious.”

“Oh,” she murmured, her shoulders slumping. “ _Kaffas_.”

“Language,” Barris put in gently. She wrinkled her nose at him and Cullen grinned.

Pria and Cassandra arrived then, and the two faeries eyed each other before exchanging faint bows. “I don’t know what to call you, now,” the woman told Pria a little regretfully, “You’re…different. Changed.” Pria shrugged, “I use Knight-Enchanter, now. Or just ‘Pria’.”

The woman nodded and looked at the lot of them thoughtfully. “Well. I know of your daughter, and your pretty mortal, here. These other two I’m not sure of. Introduce me, Ser Knight-Enchanter.”

“As you desire. Lady, my daughter, Adorah, and her father, Commander Cullen,” Pria said, stepping over to Dor’s other side and gently resting her hand on her back. “And our friends, Seeker Pentaghast and Detective Barris. Ironsiders, this is the Dark Lady.”

Cassandra and Barris glanced at Cullen for a little direction and the Lady grinned rather impishly, “That one doesn’t kneel or bow anymore, he won’t be much help. Fortunate I don’t feel like making anyone kneel at this moment. I’ll take your ‘hello’ for granted.”

“Our appreciation,” Cassandra said. “If you would excuse us, I believe we need to be going. Time is wasting.”

“You have time for me,” the Lady replied and leaned back down to Dor’s eye-level. “You want the tear, yes?”

Dor nodded, “Yes’m. But I don’t think I can pay for it.”

“Then let us find a suitable trade.”

“What tear,” Pria demanded flatly, and her look clouded when Dor pointed, a soft hiss escaping her. “Oh, we are _not_ playing that game. You’re not making a ‘suitable’ trade for that with my daughter.”

“Second that,” Cullen drawled.

“Tch! As if I would harm a hair on your child’s head!” came the flinty dismissal, “I am the least of problems for the pair of you.”

“I like her,” Cassandra smirked as Pria and Cullen shifted uncomfortably, glanced at one another. “Shocking,” Barris deadpanned. He snickered when she elbowed him in the side.

“Now,” the Lady returned her attention back to Dor, “What do you have to trade?”

Dor blinked slowly, her head tilting one way for a moment and then the other as she thought and rocked back onto her heels. “Well…I don’t want to give you any of my hair or my memories or anything like that because then you could use them for tricky stuff and that isn’t okay,” she replied slowly, “And I don’t have any of my allowance with me, or any of my treasures, and I didn’t make any more bracelets…” She suddenly brightened as she reached into her pockets, and plastic crinkled as she pulled out her hands that now held fistfuls of sweets. “Candy! I have candy! Can I trade you one of my necklaces for that one? Well—better make that three, ‘cause you said it was rare and precious.”

The adults gaped at her, and then Barris snorted. “Butterscotch!” he huffed and began laughing. Cassandra looked confused for only a bare moment before she too began chuckling, and Cullen turned pink and rubbed the back of his neck as Pria looked at him blankly. “Never mind,” he muttered.

The Dark Lady smiled. “Adorah,” she said, lifting the tear from its stand and carefully clasping it around the girl’s neck, “You have yourself a trade.” Dor smiled brightly and proudly handed over three candy necklaces, “The blue ones are the best.”

“I rather agree,” the Dark Lady replied.

*-*-*-*

A trade successfully made, they took their leave of the Dark Lady with polite good-byes and a packet of elfroot-and-clove cigarettes handed to Cullen. “Since you’re almost out,” she said in response to his questioning look. He accepted them with a little hesitation and the group continued on their way, Dor looking extremely pleased with herself and skipping between the adults as they walked.

“I’m starting to think anything can be got with the right amount of sugar,” Barris observed, grinning. Cullen made a vaguely rude gesture in his direction (Barris only grinned wider), and the small troupe followed the winding street.

“So,” Cassandra said, “About this tavern. Is there anything we should know?”

“Yeah,” Cullen grumbled, “If someone punches or stabs me, let it slide.”

“I really cannot promise that.”

“No one is going to stab you,” Pria put in.

“But punching him is an option?” Cassandra demanded.

“Da can take a hit,” Dor chirped confidently, coming to her father’s side and taking his hand. “Thank you, Dor,” he replied wryly.

“She isn’t _wrong_ ,” Pria noted, “And I think getting a sock to the face would be the least worrisome thing, considering.”

“You’re _really_ not helping, Pria.”

“Ah, so I should just leave you to do this without me?”

“Don’t you _dare_.”

“You two _need_ couples counseling,” Barris muttered under his breath. “Amen,” Cassandra agreed lowly.

“What’s couples counseling?” Dor asked and Cullen and Pria gave the other two humans a rather impressive side-eye. “Don’t fret over it, _da’vhenan_ ,” Pria replied. “Friends sometimes meddle where they don’t belong.”

“Abi says that’s what friends are best at.”

“That’s because your Abi is a first class meddler.”

“Maker give me patience,” Cullen grumbled as they rounded the corner, and Barris and Cassandra stopped and stared in wonder.

“That,” Cassandra said after a moment, “Is the biggest tree I have _ever_ seen.”

The Tree dominated the entirety of the block they had turned onto, and was a minimum of nearly a hundred feet high. Wide, gnarled roots sprouted up and twined around themselves and the lowest branches, punching through the rock and earth that the Tree sat on. The leaves were as large as a man, and twice as broad and every shade of green that the eye could comprehend. Tangling vines trailed from the heights of the branches, festooned with bright, faintly glowing flowers and large, oddly shaped fruit. Flickering lights danced through the branches and roots, up through knotholes in the trunk, and an array of creatures and beings walked among them, the faint sound of music and raucous laughter drifting to their ears.

“The rumor is that it grew from a cutting of Yggdrisil itself,” Pria told them. Barris and Cassandra resumed walking, picking up their pace to catch up the short distance that had come between them and the rest. “Is that true?” Barris asked, looking up as they came under the shadow of the Tree. Pria grinned, “Probably not. It’s the tavern, and there are plenty of spirits who attend Yggdrisil that would lose their minds if a bar was made at the roots of one of its offspring.”

“ _This_ is the tavern?!”

“This is the tavern,” Cullen confirmed, “And home of the Wild Hunt. Stay close—and while I’d avoid starting any fights, if anything in there tries to get their claws into you, use those things I gave you.”

“You didn’t mention anything about a ‘Wild Hunt’,” Cassandra grumped flatly.

“Yeah. Well…surprise?” he offered in reply.

“ _Ugh_ ,” she huffed.

He grinned at her rather cheekily and then led them under a yawning archway of roots, through a green curtain of vines and clattering bones, and into the tavern under the Tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheese and crackers.
> 
> My lovely readers, I deeply apologize for the delay. I am also unable to tell you that time between chapters will get better, because I am in a FUUUUUNK and it is a FUNK WITH VENGEANCE. So I'm doing my best to chisel away at writing when I am capable of doing so while looking after myself and trying to get the Funk to fuck off.
> 
> But written this story will get. I am determined in that, and your patience and sticking with it is deeply appreciated.
> 
> Now, for an important thing: "The Goblin Market" is by Christina Rossetti. It is a long and beautiful and fun poem and if you haven't read it, I suggest you do so. You can google it and read it online very easily. You'll find the first lines of it here in this chapter.
> 
> A not so important note: I think using candy as currency is a Rutherford family trait. Because faeries like sweet things. And because it works, so why not. It also helps that Dor is cute as a button and Dark Lady likes kids.


	8. The Four Most Terrifying Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes find themselves in an uncomfortable place and an old friend is met. Arrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess...I think...te-e-e-echnically...? This is a warning/head's up for...drug use, I guess? I'm not sure it actually qualifies, because no one we care about in this chapter actually uses drugs, but they will be in the vicinity and all that so...yeah.

**I am he as you are me as he as you are me and we are all together**

 

Cassandra and Barris followed their three companions from the warm light of the Market into still twilight.

The inside of the tavern was dim, lit by flickering, colorful glass lamps that hung from ceiling and sconces, and tiny shells full of fragrant oil that burned bright blue and green, floating in bowls of water made from huge leaves of the tree. Crushed flower petals festooned the floor along with thick, plush cushions piled around low tables and ornately carved screens that divided the room into inviting areas where faeries and creatures of all sorts lounged and sprawled in various state of undress.

A heavy cloud of smoke roiled near the sealing, made the air thick and foggy; it tickled the nose with the strong smell of sweet flowers and freshly-turned brown earth. Underneath it was a sharp tang of ozone and acrid metal. Many of the reclining faeries shared long, slender pipes with bowls shaped like dragon mouths that belched more smoke and flickering sparks. All the reclining beings had the same glazed, far-away look in their eyes, and some stared up at the colorful lamps or into the flames, smiling vaguely.

“I know that smell,” Barris muttered, rubbing his nose self-consciously.

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed, frowning, “So do I. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah. Just don’t take it personal if I get a little short, Seeker.”

“I’m going to _kill him_ ,” Cassandra muttered, “‘This is the tavern. Oh, by the way, Cass, it’s also home of the Wild Hunt. And I should probably mention that there will be a _lyrium den_!”

“ _Maker’s breath we have a kid with us_ ,” Barris suddenly hissed with a grimace. She scoffed under her breath.

“I’m putting this in for a hazard pay bonus.”

“I will support that completely, Seeker.”

Cassandra hazarded a glanced in Cullen’s direction and found him steadfastly trying to keep his eyes from flickering towards vials of pale blue powder, his breathing carefully shallow. Pria’s face was stonily blank, save for a rather savage glint that flared in her eyes whenever another puff of lyrium-scented smoke danced by them, shaped like galloping horses and prancing deer.

Dor fell into step beside her father, reaching up to gently take his hand, “Doing alright, Da?” He started, blinking out of his narrow-minded focus, and looked back at her with a slight, somewhat strained smile. “I’m fine, Dor,” he replied, “Take Barris and Cassandra a little ahead? I need a moment.”

The girl nodded and pressed her cheek to his hand before letting go to bound forward and hook her arms through theirs. “Just ahead!” she chirped brightly, “Through that archway—I dunno if you can see it in this light, but it’s a slightly darker place on the wall.”

The humans squinted in the dim light. “I believe I can see _something_ , but I’ll trust your judgement,” Cassandra said after a moment, “Cullen?”

“I’ll be along in a minute, Cass. I just—I need a moment.”

She frowned but inclined her head and Barris flashed him a brief, sympathetic smile. “Don’t get on that train,” he advised gently, reaching back to lightly knock a friendly fist into the other man’s shoulder, and Cullen shook his head in agreement. “Never again.”

They disappeared through the archway, passing through thick black curtains that fluttered like spider-silk as they settled again, and Cullen came to a stop just outside of it, exhaling heavily and fumbling with his lighter as he set a cigarette between his lips.

It clicked and failed to spark.

“Maker-damned piece of crap,” he muttered, silently cursing the cluster of butterflies that had taken residence in his chest. Elfroot and poppy hadn’t been too much of a surprise, but he hadn’t quite expected to be hit full on with the smell of burning lyrium. It wasn’t the same form he had been exposed to in the military, but the sharp, metallic-mineral tang had always coated his tongue after an injection, just as it coated his tongue now.

His mouth was watering, and he was cursing himself for his stupidity. He should have considered the possibility that he and Barris would be exposed to that life-wrecking poison along with whatever else the faeries liked to smoke, and he should have considered that even stepping foot into this tavern _with Pria present_ was just as bad an idea because it brought back memories. Vivid ones. Memories that had him and Pria, younger and happy and a pair of giggling idiots, tucked in a dark corner of this room somewhere under warm furs and cushions while music played. Ones that had him fairly certain Dor had probably been conceived--

They were better left shoved into the dark parts of his mind where they belonged, he decided firmly, because if he thought about them too much, lyrium wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be wanting to taste.

There was a soft _whuff_ sound and a moment later Pria’s hand was in front of his face, offering him a palm-full of flames. “Need a light?” she asked. He paused, staring at the fire for a second or two before he pocketed his lighter and leaned in a bit to light the cigarette. “Thanks,” he murmured after inhaling a mouthful of smoke and releasing it. “Handy trick.”

“ _Magic elf powers_ ,” she replied in a dramatic whisper, closing her fist around the flames, extinguishing them as he rolled his eyes. _That_ old game.

“It’s still not funny or cute.”

“I think it is.”

“Of course you do.”

She plucked the cigarette lightly from his mouth and he watched her take a long drag from it and blow the smoke out through her nose. Tried not to stare too hard at her lips. Tried not to think about what it would be like to feel them under his own again, about the sea-air taste of her. Her fingers had always had a habit of ending up tangled in his hair, combing through the curls and Maker help him if that hadn’t always made him a little weak in the knees. _Dammit. So much for not thinking about it—look at you, still calm and composed. You always could do that, how can you always do that, would you still shiver and press against me if I touched you?_

The smoke whirled itself in soft spirals before floating away in the shape of small, white-gray birds. “Are you certain you’re alright?”

He snorted, a brittle, thin smile pulling at his mouth, “Generally? No, no, I’m not. Being in a lyrium filled room? Ish. I can’t afford not to be.”

A second drag. More smoke as she looked at him carefully for a long moment, exhaling crashing, wild waves and tiny scuttling crabs. Her eyes were doing the spooky thing they always did in low light—apart from _glowing_ , and hadn’t _that_ just given him a fright when he’d first found out—with the blue of the iris deepening and darkening until it overshadowed the touch of purple in them. They reminded of him sea-water when they did that—dark and deep and eerie and still able to draw him in if he looked too hard for too long. _Blue-in-the-Dark_ he’d called her playfully when that happened. _My lovely Blue-in-the-Dark._

“We need to talk.”

He blinked out of his reverie of her eyes, a flash of blind panic skittering through him.

Those were the four most terrifying words in the entirety of existence. And yet, he felt a small lance of annoyed anger run through him, swiftly replacing the panic. _What the fuck._ He let out a little huff, “ _Now_ you want to talk?”

“No.” She took another drag and handed the cigarette back to him, this time the plume of smoke billowing out of her mouth dispersing into a shimmering school of fish. “But we need to. At your place. After we’re done here.”

“Planning on sticking around for a bit then, are you?” Bitter. Bitter and clipped. Tasted like ash and unsweetened cocoa in his mouth.

“Please don’t be prickly. It’s going to be late. Dor will need to sleep, and I won’t ask her to open a doorway back to Minrathous when she’ll be tired.” An olive branch?

_Their daughter, curled up on the couch, watching cartoons in the morning. She liked cheesy scrambled eggs on toast, with hot sauce. Did he have eggs in the fridge?_

It was an olive branch he would gladly take. He felt a little of the tension leave him, “And you?”

_Pria cuddled under a blanket. Big cup of tea. Screaming hot, milky, loaded with honey. Her mug was still in the cabinet by the sink._ _The ridiculous thing was shaped like a fat T-rex and she had been so absurdly delighted when she’d gotten it._ _Tea-rex._

“I’d be grateful if you’d lend me your couch.”

“You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Mm. That can be something we argue about, later. When we talk.”

He sighed and took a last drag on the cigarette, pointedly ignoring the hint of salt and honey left by her mouth, and ground it out on the bottom of his shoe. “Alright. After we’re done here.”

He wished he could say that he was looking forward to it.

*-*-*-*

Pria’s nose flared the moment they entered the tavern front, the scent of burning lyrium only half-crowded out by the smell of elf-root and poppy flower. Her stomach turned unpleasantly, hatefully at the smell.

The Knight-Enchanter didn’t particularly _like_ the smell or taste of lyrium, unlike some of her faerie brethren. It reminded her of things that pinched and prickled and pained to remember; how the smell of it would be clinging to Cullen’s clothes when he came home from a deployment, crowding out the smell of _him_ and _home_ and _them_. How the taste of his kisses had changed once he had started taking the vile stuff, and how she had found that unnerving.

Mortals tasted like _life._ There was no way they could know that’s what they tasted like because life was so quick and burning for them, whereas a faerie saw a year as hardly worth considering, decades as perhaps a long blink. _Life_ for the immortal was cool and slow and methodical and rarely changing and that made the press of warm mortal flesh and the sweet taste of their brief, flickering moment of time dangerous. It could _burn_ and _devour_. _Change._

He had tasted like life when they had first met, all warmth and sun and eager vitality wrapped up in a stern, persistent, pretty shell—and then he had started the lyrium _because that’s what the mortals wanted their good soldiers to do_ and he started to taste like burning iron and poisoned water. It made his beautiful eyes fever bright when it was fresh in his system and she could sometimes see the blue of it shining through him as it swam through his veins.

Had she more sense, she ought to have left then, but it had been too late. Dor had begun to grow in her belly and Pria had already turned away from _before_ , so she could only watch as the poison consumed her pretty mortal man, could only try to reason and plead for him to _stop this_ but oh, no, that wouldn’t do because this was _Cullen_ and _Cullen_ was driven by stubborn persistence and a devotion to _duty_ that she still admired, despite the cost to them.

She watched him resolutely avoid looking at the tables they passed as they walked, at the bottles of powder and the burning pipes, and she wondered what thoughts were rolling through his mind. His shoulders were a tense line, his spine rod-straight; she found it a little amusing that he seemed to have fallen back into a military step with Barris, the pair of them in lock-step, _one-two-one-two-left-left-left-right-left._

She wondered if lyrium had forever changed the taste of his kisses, or if maybe he tasted like himself again, and she sighed in resigned exasperation to find herself wanting to reach out and touch him—to run her hand gently over his shoulders, along his spine. To perhaps rub that spot there in his lower back and at the base of his neck where he carried most of his tension. Perhaps he would still purr and melt if she did.

_I chose this mortal. I chose him and there are no take backs, ever._

She sighed again.

_And here I was doing such a bang-up job of keeping all this bottled up. Do you see what you have done, Cullen Rutherford? I’m sure you would turn a pretty pleased-pink and smile in that infuriatingly smug way of yours if you knew how hard I find it to resist you. You ass._

He bade Dor take the others ahead, and Pria was pleased when Cassandra hesitated. She _was_ glad that Cullen had such a reliable friend—just as she _was still_ a little jealous that he had kept such a gloriously capable, beautiful woman all to himself. Perhaps, in this instance, better later than never?

“Maker-damned piece of crap,” Cullen muttered, vainly trying to ignite his lighter. It would need a new flint, soon, she could hear it in the faint, tinny click of the wheel.

They needed to talk, she decided. Three years, while little more than a few breaths for her, was a very long time for him—she might not be completely ready, and definitely not looking forward to it but…

Cassandra did not strike her as the type who was _wrong_ very often.

So.

Pria took the few steps between them, cupping her hand and pulling flames to life in her palm, “Need a light?”

Cullen started faintly, and stared at the flames for a long second. The light and shadows they cast danced across his face, making his eyes turn rich amber and the stubble shadowing his jaw darker. His hair still shone like the spun gold some faeries made from straw—but she saw a few threads of silver, now, at his temples, and the lines around his eyes and mouth were a little deeper.

_Time,_ she reflected ruefully.

He leaned in and lit the cigarette, his breath soft against the skin of her wrist. “Thanks,” he said, taking in a lungful of smoke and slowly letting it out, “Handy trick.”

_Oh, this game? I remember this game._

“ _Magic elf powers_ ,” she replied cheekily, and was delighted that it still elicited an eye-roll.

“It still isn’t funny or cute.”

Then why did the scarred corner of his mouth twitch up _just so_?

“I think it is.”

“Of course you do.”

Pria delicately plucked the cigarette from his lips in order to take a drag off it, noticed how his entire body froze for the barest split second, how his eyes locked onto her. _I told you once that mortals and faeries don’t end happily, my love. I never wanted to hurt you._ “Are you certain you’re alright?” she asked, breathing out smoke and relishing the spicy bite of clove that came with it. It made her nose tingle.

“Generally? No, no, I’m not. Being in a lyrium filled room? Ish. I can’t afford not to be,” he replied with a wry snort and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. It was glass and it would shatter with little effort.

Foolish, headstrong mortal. He was beautiful and imperfect and everything she had never known she wanted.

She took another drag. She doubted he was going to like what she said next. “We need to talk.”

She was right. Panic came first, just a brief flare of it in his eyes, followed by the flinty glint of steel and anger. It was not undeserved, she decided—he had only wanted to talk for the last three years, had pleaded for it just the day before only to be refused and now here she was, saying so.

_Faeries and cats are the most exasperating creatures in existence_ , Dorian was fond of telling her, frequently, because he knew he could get away with it. Once upon a time, a long time ago, no one would have dared speak to her that way.

“ _Now_ you want to talk?” Cullen said in biting disbelief and with a little indignant huff.

“No,” she replied, taking another drag of spicy smoke and letting it out slowly, savoring the soft burn of it in her mouth. “But we need to. At your place. After we’re done here.”

“Planning on sticking around for a bit then, are you?”

It was the lash of a whip on sun-burnt skin. A red-hot brand searing her flank. The bitterness in his tone caught her off guard, pulled the breath from her for a moment, cut into her. The wild part of her bristled and snarled, rose up to claw and bite back— _how dare this mortal—_ she shoved that wild part back.

This had to end—whatever _this_ was, it hurt and it festered. Perhaps they couldn’t go back to what they _had_ been but surely they would be capable of finding something _else_ to be. She had chosen this pretty human, and her daughter wanted her father back.

They could figure something out for her sake, if nothing else.

“Please don’t be prickly. It’s going to be late. Dor will need to sleep, and I won’t ask her to open a doorway back to Minrathous when she’ll be tired.”

_I’m tired, too. I’m sure you are._

His brow furrowed before his expression softened fractionally. Something in him changed, eased, his weight shifting just the littlest bit to lean on one foot. _The right one, because he had once hurt his left knee and it sometimes still bothered him._ He’d been grumpy the entire time he’d been on crutches but had persistently refused to allow her to heal it because _people will wonder._ Not that it had stopped him from accepting plenty of kisses and cuddling against her on the couch, preventing her from doing things that needed doing.

_The doctor said I needed to rest it and I can’t very well rest with you doing **all** the work around here, can I?_

A clever oaf, her human.

“And you?” his said, voice softer.

“I’d be grateful if you’d lend me your couch.”

“You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

_Ever the valiant, chivalrous gentleman, Cullen Rutherford. Don’t you know that the knights in the stories always end up cursed or worse? Besides, you have a persnickety back and a bad shoulder._

“Mm. That can be something we argue about, later. When we talk.”

She heard him sigh heavily and watched as he took a long, final drag from his cigarette. The cloud of smoke he exhaled roiled on itself and then ran off in the shape of barrel-chested hounds and warriors on horseback, gleaming gold and bronze. He ground the thing out on the bottom of his shoe. “Alright,” he agreed, “After we’re done here.”

Pria inclined her head slightly and fell into step beside him as they headed for the curtain.

She wished she could say she was looking forward to it.

*-*-*-*

A wall of sound blasted into Cassandra and Barris as they stepped through the curtains of the archway; curtains that had, apparently, been separating the drugged serenity of the den from the raucous, lively chatter and music of the bar they now stood in. Cassandra assumed that some sort of magic had muffled the noise so effectively and vaguely wondered if there was any way for her to get curtains like that for her bedroom, because if she got woken up _one more damn time_ at an obscene hour by her _stupidly rude_ neighbors and their “parties”…

She made herself a mental note to ask Cullen, or perhaps Pria, about smaller curtains.

Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she looked around, noting with interest that there was a significant presence of Dalish in this bar, along with other denizens of the Market and faery-dom. There were tables crowded with tankards and heaping plates and bowls of meat and fruit and bread, and through the chatter and laughing and music was the clattering of dice and the tinkle of coins.

She felt Barris relax a bit next to her; faery tavern it may be, but it was still very much like every other bar they had ever had to go into. If they were lucky, no one would start a fight.

The curtains fluttered and rustled quietly, admitting the last two of their party into the room, and Pria took a deep, appreciative breath, let it out slowly with a content sigh. “I’ve missed this place,” she commented to nobody in particular. Barris half-turned, opening his mouth to say something, but whatever it was turned into an alarmed yelp before the first word could form.

Cullen swore as he found a barbed arrow head barely touching his nose, the length of the shaft still quivering accusingly from the rippling barrier that had sprung up in front of him. “Thanks,” he said weakly, glancing at the faery beside him. “I really didn’t take into account her being here.”

“That was a very stupid thing to do,” Pria observed.

“Yeah. Well. Hindsight twenty-twenty and all that.”

“ _You! Goldie McArseface!_ ”

“And this is how I die,” Cullen muttered as there was some jostling in the crowd and a blonde elf shoved her way into view, nocking another arrow into a rather vicious looking bow. It gleamed silver and emerald, and several small, brightly glowing spheres winked lazily on either side of the grip.

“Do we need to step in…?” Barris asked and then tilted his head, squinting at the newcomer, “Wait a mo’, _Sera_?”

Cassandra sighed.

“You’ve got some nerve showing your stupid face around here!” Sera snarled, stopping several feet from them, bow trained on Cullen, who was looking from her, to Barris and back again. “You know each other?” he said, baffled, “How?”

“ _Oi! I’m talking to you, McArseface!_ ”

“She… _assisted_ us a few times,” Cassandra told him, choosing her words carefully, “With some locks of questionable origin.”

“And then stuff went missing from the evidence locker, so that was fun,” Barris added.

Pria and Dor both stifled giggles and snickers that were a little too amused, in Cassandra’s opinion.

“Right, Legs, put that sheet down, I’m going to stick ‘im full of arrows,” Sera said, jerking her head at Pria, “Then we’ll get a drink, yeah?”

“I’d rather he not be,” Pria replied, “But a drink would be lovely.”

“Y’can’t shoot my _Da_ , Sera,” Dor piped up, “I _like him_ this way.”

“The last day and a half or so has been a wild ride,” Barris commented, looking at Cassandra, “Remember when I said being a detective was a little more boring than I thought it’d be?”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, “Yes. And I told you that you had just shot yourself in the foot with that.”

“You were one-hundred percent right and I’m not even a little sorry.”

“You have thrill issues.”

“Sorry, you’ve been doing this _how_ long?”

She snorted, biting back a smile, and gently shoved him, “Shut up, Barris.”

“Then I’ll just stick ‘im a _little_ full of arrows,” Sera offered. “And then we’ll get a drink.”

“No arrows,” Pria said.

“Five?”

“None.”

“Three?”

“Sera.”

“Two, then! One for each arse-cheek!”

Cullen glowered rather impressively at the amused snicker that somehow managed to escape Cassandra and she hastily covered her mouth to politely shield the cough she suddenly developed.

“No arrows, Sera!” Dor insisted.

The elf huffed and grumbled under her breath as she relaxed the draw on her bow and slid the arrow back into the quiver across her back. The bow itself gleamed for a moment and then became rather plain looking as it was clipped to her belt at her lower back. “ _Fine_ ,” she said, “But _I’m watching you, Goldie_.”

“Noted,” he quipped wryly, catching the suspended arrow and offering it back to her as the barrier between them dissolved. She snatched it up, accidentally slapping his face with the fletching as she did so. “Ow!”

“Oops! Keep your face outta the way!”

“You did that on purpose,” he grumbled, rubbing his nose.

“ _Ha_ ,” she retorted before pointedly turning away from him and throwing her arms wide. “ _Mini!”_

_“Sera!”_ Dor squealed, and hurled herself into the elf’s arms to be scooped up and hugged and have her hair rustled affectionately.

“I can’t believe you know her,” Cullen muttered disbelievingly as he edged over by Cassandra, “Or rather, I can’t believe you know her and she _isn’t_ locked up.”

“There is no evidence connecting her to anything that disappeared from the locker,” she said crisply, crossing her arms over her chest. He eyed her knowingly, “Right.”

“I don’t care for your tone.”

“I know you don’t care for my tone but you’re getting a tone anyway.”

“Right. So,” Sera interrupted, still holding Dor. “The fuck you doin’ here? _You,”_ she pointed to Cassandra and Barris, “are _cops_ and _cops_ don’t come here, _ever._ And _you_ ,” her finger swung to point at Pria and Cullen alternatively, “Aren’t _supposed_ to be here—but Legs can be my guest, so that’s fine, then.”

“Can you _not_ call her—” Cullen began, was cut off by the finger coming his way again.

“ _I_ ,” Sera spat back, “Will call Legs whatever I want, _Goldie McArseface_. _Deal with it._ ”

Pria stepped over and gently set a hand over his mouth as it opened to retort. He stiffened slightly in surprise. “We’re here because we’re helping Detective Barris and Seeker Pentaghast with a case they’re working on,” she said, “We need to get into the Archives for some answers.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sera tilted her head, expression going from irritate to intrigued, her ears perking up, “This is about those missing kids, yeah? And the deadies?”

The humans stared at her in collective surprise while Pria nodded, “Yes.”

“How,” Cassandra said, and Sera shrugged as she set Dor back to her feet. “Easy,” she said, “Y’hear things Underground. Kids go missing, all changeling-like, and pretty boys end up dead, people talk. Doesn’t help when half the faerie population of Kirkwall splits, either.”

Cullen breathed in sharply as Pria went a little pale. “ _What,_ ” Cassandra demanded lowly. “ _Half the_ — _why weren’t we told_?”

“You’re _cops_ ,” Sera repeated flatly. “You know _now_.”

“Where did they go?” Barris asked, setting a hand on Cassandra’s arm, “Do you know?”

Sera shrugged again, “Yeah. _Here._ Got wind of it when some friends said the Champion was tracking it. Met up with him and we’ve been after it since.”

“The _Champion_ —” Cassandra choked. Pria spoke over her, taking a step towards her, “Hawke’s here, too?” Cullen glanced at her sharply.

“Well, sure, ya tit,” Sera snickered, jerking her thumb towards the back of the tavern, “You think that arse is going anywhere else to get his stories?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my glorb, y'all, I heartily apologize for the delays between updates. Life has just been...ugh. Life. And motivation has been hard to come by but god-comma-dammit I will NOT let this thing get the best of me, I SHALL FINISH IT!!!
> 
> What I mean to say is, thank you for your patience and I love you guys and I'm glad that you seem to be enjoying this jaunt. I think once I get these sticky middle chapters taken care of, things will flow a little more quickly because that's when I get to write the bits I'm super-excited about.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to say. I'm charmed by Dor. I think part of this madness was an excuse to let her play and learn more about her. Wild little faery-children are so much fun.


End file.
